Break Me Down
by thefactionlessauthor
Summary: "Are you afraid of me?" He asks me this so quietly, I almost don't hear him. But his lips are at my ear; his voice shakes, and I can tell he's just as nervous as me. We both anticipate my answer. Am I afraid of him? I don't believe so, but then again we haven't had the greatest history so far. "Yes," I finally say, watching his face grow pained, "...and no." (M for lang. / scenes)
1. New

**A/N: This is not my first fanfic, and just so all of my readers know this story is going to be an AU-type. There are no factions, however, I will be keeping many of the same elements just in my own ways. I hope you enjoy my story!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, Veronica Roth owns the Divergent Trilogy.**

CHAPTER 1 – NEW

September 3rd. It's the first day.

My parents have sent my brother and me to a boarding school in Chicago. We didn't do anything wrong, they just assume the education provided is a lot better. I can't complain much either, because I'm not going alone at least.

Being away from home is a new experience for me, and for Caleb. We already miss our parents, but we know this will be good for us. Caleb has barely spoken to me since we got on the train this morning. I don't know how long it's been, but I know we've still got a while to go.

Caleb is reading, like he always does. This time it's a collection of the advancement in technology. I don't have much interest in the same things he does. I guess that's what makes us difference, it balances us out because he knows what he wants to do. I don't.

He's just recently turned seventeen, like me.

But he's much smarter, and looks a lot older. I still feel like I look about thirteen. I'm short, maybe about a foot shorter than Caleb. And probably a foot and a half, or two shorter than the guys in my year back at Abnegation high school.

I have no idea what to expect at our new school. Will people like me here? Or will it just be another year that I remain silent while I watch everyone around me having fun and making friends. I've never really been likable.

My eyes are trained on the scenery smearing past us. I don't realize I'm biting my nails until Caleb reaches across our seats and pulls my hand away, "Beatrice, you're not gonna have any nails left if you keep that up."

"Sorry," I mumble, dropping them on to my lap, "you're not nervous?" I ask him. He shakes his head and shrugs at me. I sigh, it can't just be me.

"Mom and dad have everything set up. Don't worry." I'm glad he can be so calm about all of this; I don't think I'll ever understand how he does it. He's just brave, I guess. Or fearless.

I return my gaze to the window and curl up on the seat. It's going to be a long ride, Chicago is pretty far from New York.

We didn't always live in New York; my father's job has us on the move quite a lot. Caleb and I are just going back to Chicago, we had always lived there up until we were fourteen. So in a way, it's good be going back home.

"I wonder if anything's changed," I say. Caleb glances up from his book again.

"I don't know," he finally says, "maybe."

"I know it's only been a couple years, but things can happen." He nods, I can see it from the corner of my eye.

"We'll be on the other side of Chicago, you know."

"I know." I reply, "but that doesn't mean we can't always go back to see, sometime." We fall silent again; I can hear the wheels scraping against the tracks, with the rumble of the train just beneath us. Some of my nerves disappear as I think of how much I've missed home; maybe I'm not so nervous anymore.

xXxXx

"Boys dormitories are on the bottom floor, and girls dormitories are upstairs. No boys in a girl's dormitory, no girl in a boy's dormitory. Siblings being the exception. Precautionary reasons. Your roommates will help you around the place, so hopefully you will get a feel for the campus. My name is Jeanine Matthews, but you will refer to me as Ms. Matthews. I am the dean of this school, if there are any problems, you can come and see me. I am usually always here." She smiles, but I can tell we're just another pair of new students to her. Caleb thanks her, while I remain silent, and we head to our rooms.

I say goodnight to him, because I don't believe I'll be coming back down to see him tonight. I'm too tired as it is; I just want to take a shower and get into bed. There aren't a lot of stairs, thankfully. My room key says I will be looking for room 213. It's not hard to locate, it's one of the first few rooms after the second turn in the hall. I stick the key into the lock and twist. The room is dark when I open the door, so my roommate must be out.

This is going to be a little more awkward; I was actually hoping she would be here so we could get our greetings out of the way. Now I'll have to stay up because I don't want to fall asleep ifI don't know her.

It was almost eight o'clock when we got here. It is dark outside, and from the windows in my room I can see into the courtyard outside. There are students all over the campus, playing games, talking, sitting. Maybe she's out there.

The courtyard is lit up, so I don't bother turning the lights on.

There are two beds; one has sheets already on it and the other is barren. I get to work and make my bed, filling the draws underneath it with my clothes so that I can put my suitcase out of the way. It's just a bedroom, so I'll have no choice but to ask her where the bathrooms are when she gets in.

I suspect about an hour has passed by now, and I am still alone. I suddenly wonder if Caleb's roommate has gotten in yet. If so, I hope they're getting along. Being alone gives me time to think, and time to think shows me new fears.

What if she's not happy to see me? Or we don't get along? Can I request a new room, or do I have to endure tense silence for the rest of the year?

I feel a walk would help me, so I get up and grab my room key, shoving it into my pocket. There are some people lingering out in the main hallway when I get downstairs. I think about going into the courtyard, but I don't know anybody yet.

I feel a nudge on my shoulder, and turn around to see a girl about a few inches shorter than me, "Hey, you must be Prior." I nod.

"How do you know my name?"

"The lost look on your face was a dead giveaway," she smiles, "I'm your roommate, Christina. I thought about going upstairs to greet you, but I figured you might want your space for a while. So I thought I'd wait and see if you'd come down."

"So, what are all these people doing out here?" I ask, motioning towards the courtyard.

"Lights stay on until curfew. And nobody really cares that we hang out outside when it's nice. It's just them giving us some leeway. But even around curfew, nobody actually goes to sleep," she smirks, "some of us know our way out without getting caught. Or we just hang out in someone's room."

"Isn't that like...not allowed?" I say. Christina laughs, shaking her head.

"Of course it's not. We'll corrupt you," she grins, "you gotta have a little fun; and what's fun without some risks? Come on, I'll introduce you to some of my friends." She leads me out into the courtyard, towards a group of people by one of the large trees. They're laughing about something when Christina and I stop in front of them. "Hey guys, meet our new friend and my new roommate, Beatrice."

"Uh...just Tris," I say.

"Tris," Christina nods, "well, _Tris_, this is my boyfriend, Will. And that, is his friend, Al."

"Nice to meet you, Tris," Will says, extending a hand towards me. I take his hand, hesitantly, and shake it twice.

"You too," I reply a little more confidently.

"She's just a little shy," Christina adds, "but we'll break her out of her shell, right guys?"

"Right!" They both grin.

I find myself a little more at ease with them as time passes. The stories I've heard, I wouldn't believe they were capable of if I were an outsider watching them interact. But I've gotten to know them, at least a little bit, as we've talked.

On the other side of the yard, the lights begin to shut off, "Curfew time, guys." Christina says, nudging my arm, "You know what that means," she says, glancing between me and them.

"Uh...what _does_ that mean?" I ask her.

"We're gonna go to the pit. Wanna come with?" Will asks me. I'm not sure if I want to; I just got here, and if I already get in trouble that's not gonna look good. But Christina said that they all have ways of getting out undetected.

"Okay," I nod, "I'll go."

"Yeah, see I knew you'd warm up to us sooner or later," Christina says, clapping a hand on my shoulder.

When we get there, Christina drags me up to the roof of a building. I feel uneasy as we step towards the ledge, "it's not so bad, the wind isn't rough tonight," Will comments, standing on the ledge. "Should we let her go first?"

"First for what?" I ask.

"Jumping," Al answers, resting on the ledge, "you gotta jump to get into the pit." I glance over the side, my stomach tightening as I see how far down it is. It's a giant black hole in the middle of the pavement below.

"You want me to jump? All the way down there?" I cry, "This is what you guys do for fun?" Now I really begin to wonder what the hell I've gotten myself into.

"It's not that bad," Christina reassures me, "we've done this before. There's a net at the bottom, it'll catch you."

"Unless I hit the pavement," I retort. They laugh, shaking their heads. I feel determined now, to prove them wrong about me. I think about it; they welcomed me so easily, if they wanted to hurt me wouldn't they have done it already? Plus, they don't seem like the type to viciously trick people. "...Fine, I'll jump first."

"You go girl!" Christina cheers, clapping. "Don't think, just jump." I am able to balance myself on the ledge, staring down at the gaping hole I'm about to jump down into. If I hit the pavement, that's it. So I don't close my eyes.

I step off, and the air pulls me down at a rapid pace; I'm terrified, but too exhilarated to think straight. I don't think about the dangers anymore, I am down, below the opening when I come to a stop shortly after. The net bounces, throwing me back up into the air a few times before it stops.

There's nobody else in the room but me, and then suddenly a scream sounds from above and Christina lands in a heap beside me. Her chin hits my shoulder, and she winces but laughs it off.

"Damn, I thought you had gotten out of this thing already," she says, rolling herself off to the edge. She climbs down from the net and helps me get my feet on the ground. We wait for Al and Will to get down, and then they lead me through a large corridor.

The noise from the end gets louder as we get closer, and when we turn we enter an even larger room below. There's a glass roof, held up by pillars, at the top of the cavern's opening. I can see the stars because of how high up we are but then Christina tugs on my arm and we go down to where the other people are.

"Hey, Christina," a boy calls out, motioning her over. He's quite intimidating looking, with two piercings just above his right eyebrow. And his ears. The tattoo on his neck also stands out to me, but it looks like tires have run over him.

"Eric, this is my friend Tris," Christina shouts over the noise, "she's new."

"I can tell," he says, looking me over. I'm not sure if I should feel disgusted or suspicious of his character. "She's clean."

"Clean?" I ask Will.

"It means you don't have any tattoos, or piercings." Will says.

"You thinking of changing that?" Eric asks; it's directed at me. I shake my head.

"I wasn't," I answer. What would my tattoo even look like? Piercings didn't seem that flattering to me either.

"Okay," he shrugs after a moment. I release a breath I didn't know I had been holding in. "So, why did you think it was a good idea to bring her to the pit?"

"She looked like she needed some fun," Christina says, "she's new; she was probably gonna come here eventually. Sooner just seemed better." There's a girl that walks up beside Eric; she has long, black hair and a thin face. She eyes me, almost the exact same way Eric had. I know I stand out, I look nothing like any of them. My clothes aren't as dark, I don't even wear make-up.

"Who's she?" I am feeling a little tired of the scrutinizing stares.

"Who are you?" I retort. The others seemed stunned, while the girl just smirks.

"Tori," she answers, "...didn't look like you had any guts. Guess I was wrong."

"You're not the first person to underestimate me," I say. Christina laughs beside me, and Eric suppresses a grin. Will and Al don't even bother hiding theirs'.

"Watch your mouth," Tori says, stalking past me. She bumps into my shoulder, and mutters, "welcome to the pit." And then she's gone. Christina is no longer laughing, she's applauding me again.

"Welcome to the pit, indeed." She says, "I take it, Tori will tolerate you. She's kind of a hard person to impress."

"Well, _Stiff_," Eric smirks, taking a step towards me, "Maybe you do belong here. You'll just need to do something so nobody can cross you anymore. Enjoy the fun. See you guys later." He goes in the same direction as Tori, and Christina leads me to one of the tables.

"Want something to drink?" She asks, "pick your poison." By poison, I'm assuming none of this is non-alcoholic. I've never drank before – I'm not even sure that I want to now. I shake my head at her and she shrugs, "fine. More for me." She grins. She doesn't judge me on it either, she just doesn't care.

Maybe I could fit in here.

xXxXx

I'm not even sure how, but Will had gotten us out through a back doorway. He was supporting Christina the whole way back; is she always like this? I'm not bothered by it though. On the rest of the way, back to our dorm, Will leaves her with me. I'm not exactly the strongest person, so supporting her is a struggle but I manage.

She collapses onto her bed, and I get into mine. I'm glad tomorrow is a Saturday, so she can recover and later tell me the schedules I will have to follow.

My first night wasn't bad. I imagined a much bumpier beginning, but Christina made things easier. I still am not too sure how well I'll get along with Eric, or Tori, but they're older so I won't be crossing their paths as much. Hopefully.

Christina stirs awake, barely lifting her head off her pillow. She whimpers, and clutches at her forehead. I can only imagine the pain she's in, "T-tris... damn..." I know I should have stopped her, or at the very least, made her wait a little while in between drinks. But I suspect this isn't her first time being hungover.

"I'm awake," I say quietly.

"Don't let this..." she gags a little, "don't let this version of me make you think bad of me."

"It doesn't," I reassure her, "just uh...just try to get some more sleep."

"I think – I think there are rocks in my head, rolling around," she says. I can't help but laugh a little; I know she's in pain, but she's entertaining, "I need water."

"We could go down and get breakfast," I offer, "though, I'm not too sure you really wanna walk right now."

"If I do, I'll fall over."

"Should I go down, and bring you back a bottle?"

"Please," she begs, turning to lay on her stomach. I stand up and head towards the closet to get dressed. I don't drag it out, I hurry up so I don't keep her waiting. I'm a little lost at first, but I see a sign across the courtyard that says 'CAFETERIA' so I head that way.

There's a machine right inside the entryway, filled with water bottles. I open the door and reach inside to grab one. I don't even notice another person in the room until the door slams shut on my arm. I cry out pain, wrenching my arm free.

There's a boy with a smug grin on his face, leaning against the machine, "so you're the new girl?" He asks. I don't answer him, I turn away to leave but his hand grips my arm tightly and pulls me back, "I asked you a question."

"Yeah?" I hiss, "well you also shut my arm in the door." I don't need to answer to him. He's a jerk – and I don't even know who he is.

"The new girl has some attitude, huh?" I feel another hand weave through my hair, and I turn to see a girl behind me.

"What's your name?"

"What's yours?" I retort.

"Peter," he says, "and that's Molly."

"Well, I'd say nice to meet you but I'd be lying." I yank my arm free after another struggle and pull my sleeve back up over my shoulder.

"Why are you in a rush, huh?"

"Beatrice!" It's Caleb. I turn my head to see him rush in from the cafeteria, he pulls me towards him and glares at the boy names Peter. "What are you doing to my sister?" I should be relieved, but I could handle him on my own.

"Beatrice...? Nice name," Molly sneers. _At least mine doesn't sound like it belongs to a dog_.

"Aw, you've got your big brother to protect you now," Peter scoffs, "later, _Beatrice_."

"What the hell happened?" Caleb asks, watching them leave. I shake my head.

"I didn't even know who they were," I reply, "I guess they just like to bully new kids... I was down here getting some water for my roommate, Christina."

"Why couldn't she get it?" I don't really want to tell Caleb she's hungover – saying she's ill wouldn't technically be lying...

"She's not feeling well—_really_ not feeling well." And he believes me; I was sorta truthful. He leaves to go back into the cafeteria once he's convinced I'll be alright on my own so I head back to the dorm room.

When I enter, Christina is sitting up, "feeling better?"

"Well at least the rocks stopped moving," is all she says. I hand her the water and she thanks me. She doesn't realize I almost lost my arm trying to get it for her.

"...Hey, what do you know about a boy named Peter, and a girl...Molly?" I ask. Christina looks up at me curiously.

"Why?"

"Uh, when I went to go get you water the boy—Peter tried to shut my arm in the door. Molly just kinda stood there and watched, but she was with him."

"Peter's an asshole," Christina replies, "he's a bully, and a coward. He never likes to be forgotten, or put in his place. He thinks he's better than everyone else. I want to say 'I can't believe he'd do something like that', but I actually can. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I just wanted to know if I did something to get on his bad side..."

"You're the new girl—you and your brother are the new kids. You're practically what everyone's talking about around here right now. Peter's far from any of their minds." I'm not sure I like that at all. I never asked to be the center of attention—nor did I expect to make an enemy because I am. It's not like I tried to make this happen.

"I didn't ask to be," I sigh.

"No," she agrees, "but eventually you'll be just like everyone else here. The talk'll die down after a while. You probably shouldn't leave this room for the rest of the day...who knows where Peter's lurking around right now."

"That makes me feel better," I mutter sarcastically. Now I'm just supposed to stay confined to this room? I'm not gonna be a coward, not like him.


	2. Four

CHAPTER 2 – FOUR

I can't be confined to that room anymore today.

Christina left with a boy, Uriah, a little while ago so for almost three hours I found myself alone and bored with my thoughts. She offered to bring me with them, I don't know why I disagreed. I guess I'm just used to being around only Christina, Will, or Al at the moment.

I don't care what Peter or Molly may or not do to me right now. I refuse to be a coward and spend another minute alone. I've only been here two days, if I keep hiding myself away I'll never adjust. Maybe I can find Caleb and just spend time with him for a while, or search for Christina.

The corridors aren't as quiet as they were last night. I don't try to cower away from the lingering groups, or the people glancing up at me, but I don't try to socialize either. Remembering how big this school is, I don't try to pretend like I know where I'm going. I'm not navigation smart, I would get lost easily.

I think about going to the pit, however, without Christina by my side I know I'd feel awkward.

I keep my eyes ahead, occasionally looking over at some of the people around me. I notice there are more guys lingering in the halls than girls – perhaps the girls just prefer being hidden away. Or off of the campus. There are two guys running down the hall, right in my path.

I dodge them, nearly getting run over in the process. They're laughing; one of them, the first boy, is taunting the other with something I don't quite see from where I'm standing.

I catch Peter's stare from down the hallway then, and instantly turn away. He's probably surprised I'm even walking around right now. He's alone, but I'm sure that wouldn't stop him from being a jerk anyway. Maybe he just likes having more power when he has helpers; coward.

In my attempts to forget him, I mostly just stroll around the building and make mental notes of where certain areas are. Getting lost a few times in the process, however, I found the bathrooms by the stairs so at least I'll know where to go for them now.

The classrooms are in a separate building on the campus, overlooking the streets on the other side; there are no windows showing out into the courtyard.

Upon reaching the end of the hall, there's a sign that tells me these classrooms aren't used anymore. They look outdated, and for the most part the majority of them are locked. There were a few I found unlocked. Although, I don't stick around that hallway too much longer, it's a little creepy. But I'll keep it in mind should I ever need to get away Peter.

I don't put it past him to chase me. My arm still hurts from yesterday.

I'm back in familiar surroundings; the courtyard isn't as full during the day. More privileges, like leaving the school grounds and such are available so I've heard. I don't really have anywhere to go though. It's not like back in New York, when I had some friends to go out with.

I spot Christina out by the cafeteria, twisting a bottle of water around in her hands as she's talking to Will and Uriah. I make my way over to them, and shyly wave as Uriah smiles at me. He was very nice when I met him earlier, something tells me he's just a happy guy all the time, "Here comes the stiff," he jokes.

"Don't call me that," I reply. His smile is contagious, it actually makes me smile in return. He laughs, throwing his arm around my shoulder.

"My apologies, Tris." Uriah says, shaking me, "good thing you can take a little name calling and joking." I don't feel awkward, if anything I'm thankful for Uriah's personality overall. He actually makes you want to talk. He turns to Will and Christina, "hey, you guys going to the pit again tonight? Heard Eric's picking a fight."

"Of course he is," Christina replies with a shake of her head. She looks at me, "Eric picks new people to fight with each other...kind of like a monthly tradition with him."

"Yeah, if Tori wasn't there he'd make it a nightly thing," Uriah nods.

"Tori's not even there most of the time, how would she know? He could probably get away with it," Christina asks, "Four doesn't do anything about it either..."

"That's 'cause Four wants nothing to do with any of what Eric does," Will states, wrapping an arm around Christina's waist. She leans into him, and I suddenly feel a hollow pang in my chest at the sight of them. It makes me wonder how long they've been together.

"Four?" I blurt out. "Like the number?" They each look at me as I speak up, and I shrink back a little under Uriah's arm. I almost forgot he was still holding me.

"Yeah sort of. He hangs around Tori and Eric sometimes; he doesn't really have much of a choice, they keep order in the pit together. Kind of like leaders, except if Eric had his way he'd be a dictator." Uriah explains. It was my impression they saw Eric as a friend, but now...

"Tori just has the spot so she can get away with things," Christina adds.

"I mean, she's cool and all but she likes to order people around sometimes. Four's the only normal one sometimes. They hardly ever agree with him. Feel bad for him...there's always someone who's controlling him." Uriah says with an empathetic frown, "he's a cool guy, but he mostly keeps to himself when it comes to personal matters. We all just know him as Four, not sure why but it's just what we've called him for the last couple of years."

"Does he go to school here?" I ask.

"He used to," Uriah answers, "he's one of the older kids. They all left last year. Finished. He just turned nineteen, actually."

"So why does Eric still hang around here, then?"

"So he can find his next fighters," Will says with a shrug, "or just prey on the underclassmen. Either, really."

"Eric's ego is too big for him," Christina says, rolling her eyes, "we just tend to stay on his good side."

"And if you're on his bad side?"

"Only one person can answer that without fearing Eric," Uriah says, smirking. Christina nods, and Will agrees after a moment, "Four."

"Do he and Eric not get along?" I ask.

"Eric and Four are like a cat and a dog," Christina scoffs, "Four is just more of the dog type." I'm guessing Eric isn't his biggest fan then. Four's feelings must be mutual.

"What happened?"

"Four was constantly first in everything they did, always beating Eric. First in his class. Eric sometimes does a pretty good job at hiding his hatred; there are times when he'll definitely make it known though." Seems kinda childish to hate someone for just being good at things. I'm reminded of Peter, and his apparent hatred for me even though I never did anything wrong to him.

"Does he ever choose to fight Four?" I don't know why I'm so curious about them, but Four sounds like he's not much of a fighter unless provoked.

"Please," Christina snorts, "Four beat his ass good in their last fight. Eric refrains from even choosing him anymore. He'd rather watch the fights now."

"Isn't he afraid of looking like a coward?"

"He is, but Four never actually wants to fight him. And Four is so used to deflecting him on it, Eric just kinda gave up," Uriah must be pretty close with him if he knows so much, "...for now."

"Don't forget though, that Four would definitely take him on if he had to." Christina says, grinning.

"How come he wasn't at the pit last night?" I probably sound obsessed with this Four guy. I've asked them almost every question that came into my mind about him. But I can't tell, because they're not making it apparent.

"He was, but he lingers around the back mostly. I only saw him...maybe once and then he disappeared again." Uriah replies, scratching his eyebrow unconsciously, "my brother says he's been without a girl for almost a year now...he seems a lot more distant lately. Barely even looks at girls..."

"He probably doesn't see any worth his time," Christina shrugs, "have you seen the majority of the female population at this place? He probably feels better off on his own now...no longer in school, living on his own and whatnot. He probably doesn't see the need right now."

"Four never really was the type to chase girls," Uriah says with a reluctant sigh. I can't help the feeling that I have to meet him. He seems...below the average of unsupervised nineteen year old males running around here. He's interesting.

XxXxX

Christina doesn't even ask me if I want to go to the pit, we just go.

It's even more cramped tonight, much to Al's chagrin. He doesn't like too big a crowd, which makes me curious as to why he suddenly changed his mind about joining us.

I see Eric across the way, talking to a guy about my age; probably roughing him up for the fight. I'm not sure I really even want to stick around to see it, but it might be interesting should nothing else happen tonight.

I don't see Tori anywhere; Christina was right so far - she's probably not here. Will and Christina head further into the crowd while Al stays behind with me. We're both quiet, making this situation more awkward than before.

"Do you want something to drink?" Al asks me. I shake my head no, and mutter a small thanks. I'm not much of a drinker, and water isn't exactly an option I've seen too often down here.

Al says he's going to grab one for himself and I'm thankful for his escape. I just can't bring myself to start small talk, especially not with him. He's a nice guy, but that's about it.

I don't even bother searching for Will or Christina; I just want a distraction. But Al comes back, looking a little more confident and maybe a little smug. He's drunk.

"So where did you transfer from again?" He asks, leaning towards me. No, he's probably just a little tipsy.

"New York," I reply, biting the inside of my cheek. I really don't like this side to him - I prefer his suffer-in-silence side.

"New York is a nice place," Al is staring at me so intently; all I want to do is hide. Small talk is not my forte, and neither is caring for a tipsy, 190 pound boy trying to hit on me, "you don't look like much of a city girl though."

"Uh, New York state." I correct him, "New York City is a little too flashy for me."

"Yeah," he nods, "do you want to go somewhere a little more quiet?" I do. Just not with him.

"Uh, no I'm fine out here," I say. He frowns, but thankfully doesn't press me on it and looks around awkwardly.

"I'm gonna go get another drink," his fingers close around my shoulder, a little too close to the skin of my collarbone, and I shiver, "are you sure you don't want one?"

"I'm fine," I reply a little more aggressively than I mean to. I smile, hoping it'll mask most of my irritation. He barely even noticed. Al's off again and I bolt the first chance I get. I end up running through a back hallway; it's damp, and glowing blue under the lights. I stop to catch my breath when I know I'm well hidden and look around me. I'm down an even longer hallway now.

I stand, pressed up against one of the walls, quietly trying to slow my breathing down. I can feel the cool cement through my clothes; the cold reminds me of Al's hand on my shoulder and I shiver.

I have caught someone's attention, because I hear footsteps trudging towards me. Before I can even get further into the shadows a firm hand grabs my arm. I let out a helpless scream, but the sound is blocked off by a rough palm muffling the sound.

Maybe Al has found me.

Except it's not Al I'm staring at in fear. It's Eric. He releases me to cross his arms over his chest, staring at me expectantly, "what are you doing back here, stiff?" I can't tell him I'm hiding - he's watching me like I'm a piece of meat, and if I make myself look even more vulnerable...

"I got lost," I say calmly.

"You got lost." He repeats, "looking for what?"

"The bathrooms," I automatically reply. When did I become the kind of person who opts for lying? Eric doesn't look convinced, and I know I'm on his bad side.

"Eric!" Another male, he turns the corner and starts towards us, or just towards Eric since I'm too short and he's blocking me. I can't see who it is that's there until he's a few feet away, peering over Eric's shoulder at me, "what are you doing to her?"

"Relax, Four," Eric mutters, looking irritated. _Four!_ _That's him?_ He looks intimidating, but in a handsome way; I've never really seen anyone like him - _tall_. A muscular build, with piercing blue eyes that seem to get softer as they flicker to my face.

No wonder Christina is so fond of him.

"I caught her lurking back here," Eric cuts my thoughts off, and I refocus on the situation I'm in. Four looks back at me, analyzing me.

"New?" His voice rumbles as he speaks; it surprises me how deep his voice is when he looks so young. He looks about my age, except I know he's two years older. Eric nods and he sighs, "you can't be back here without one of the leaders. We keep better track of people that way." I nod, paralyzed. I expected him to yell - I'm a little disappointed. Four looks much more capable of volume and strength.

"Explain the rules to her, would ya' Four?" Eric says, bored. Eric steps around him to head back down the hallway, "I've got a fight to watch." Four rolls his eyes while Eric disappears around the corner.

"You alright?" Four asks. I nod slowly, and he begins to walk away. I wonder if he heard me scream and that's why he came, "come on." He tosses a glance over his shoulder to make sure I'm following him but doesn't stop to wait for me. I jog to catch up with him, "why were you back there?"

"Uh," I'm not sure how to answer him, if I should be honest. I doubt he'd even care.

"You gonna lie to me?" He sounds like he's teasing me, "if you are, make it good. This is the only time I'm letting you." Okay.

"Well," I say, biting my lip, "uh, I was trying to get away from a guy...friend."

"Ex-boyfriend?" Four asks. I shake my head.

"No, just saving myself from hours of unwanted awkward conversation." He laughs.

"I'm getting a sense that you didn't opt for lying to me," he says, "I'm Four, one of the leaders here. What's your name?"

"Bea..." I don't know what makes me falter but here I just want to break away from _Beatrice Prior_: the stiff from New York with no friends, "my name's Tris."

"Well, Tris," Four says, stopping just before the corner, "I'm _supposed_ to be telling you the rules, but nobody really cares about them. Eric breaks them all the time, so he's just being a hypocrite. You should get back to your friends."

"Okay," I say, nodding. He nods once in return and turns to head back down the hall.

"Oh," he says, glancing at me, "if Eric ever bothers you again, you know where to find me now." I'm stunned, to say the least. But if he's always back here, I'll never be able to search for him.

"Okay." It's all I can think to say. I want to go back there where it's quiet but I don't want to run into Eric again if he sees me. I probably look far too undisturbed as it is, should he see me walk out of here.

It doesn't take me too long to get back out to the main room. It's rowdy, and noisy but it's familiar to me even though I've only been here once before.

"Hey, there you are!" Christina throws her arm around my neck, shaking me until I'm off balance. The laughter bubbles up inside me, and I can't help it, "Al said you ran off."

"I got caught up," I lie.

"Wandering?" She asks, smirking, "you do that a lot." And I'm not surprised she notices. I need to break my habit of wanting to be alone. She's a great friend, "so what got you?" Should I tell her?

"I was in the back," her eyes widen, "Eric found me, and I think I'm probably on his bad side now."

"You have a death wish," she concludes with a laugh. She's sober, I can tell. She glanced around the area, too short to see over most people, then frowns, "damn...I don't see Four anywhere. Again. You would have liked him..." I bite my lip.

"Uh, well I met him," I say quietly.

"What? When?"

"He rescued me from Eric," I reply. She smiles, nudging my shoulder.

"And...?"

"And what?" She rolls her eyes and grabs my wrists, tugging on them.

"_Aaand_ what did you think of him?" She's staring at me, waiting for my response.

"He's nice," I shrug, "I only just met him."

"Wow. You are not like most girls," she laughs, "Because all these girls," she points around the room, "would point out a mile-long list of what they thought about him the moment they met him."

"He's attractive," I mutter. She gives me a look that says 'you can do better than that' and I sigh, "come on, Chris...if I didn't know any better I'd say you were trying to set me up with him."

"Well, not really," she says slowly, "but he's single, and he always looks so lonely. You're a nice, and attractive girl. You guys could make it work."

"Okay, well we just met and I barely even know him." I reply, "give me time to get to know him a little better and I'll get back to you." I'm not being a hundred percent serious, but she takes it that way.

XxXxX

I wasn't sure what I had agreed to, but Christina promised it was nothing much. Stupidly, I took her word for it. It felt like she had been working on me for hours – the eyeliner, the clothes, my hair.

But when she finally let me look in the mirror, I was impressed. It didn't look like I was wearing any make-up. Just a thin line of black above my eyelashes, and then some mascara. Together, it makes my eyes look darker yet more open, "you have really nice skin by the way," Christina comments, smiling at me through the glass, "I'm kinda jealous." I have to laugh.

"You did amazing," I say, staring at myself more than usual. I would merely take a glance in the mirror in the morning while I got ready but now I didn't want to pull my gaze away. I don't look plain anymore.

I especially love the clothes; a thin black sweater that clings to my wrists and my waist, with holes for my thumbs, and the jeans are tight but they allow me to still move. The ridged, straps that were sewn in for design make the pants look like nothing I have ever seen before, and the boots are surprisingly comfortable for steel toes.

My hair is down, parting slightly to the side and framing my face. I never realized just how long it was, or how thick. My hair feels lighter being down, not pulled or held tightly by tons of pins.

I don't even recognize myself. And I love it.

"We're going to be late if you keep staring at yourself," Christina smirks triumphantly, "black is certainly your color. Maybe we should go shopping later. And then the pit."

"Do you ever tire out?" I ask, following her out of the bathroom.

"That's the great thing about it, there's something new every night."

XxXxX

"Beatrice?" Caleb is staring at me, his eyes are huge. I look like a completely different person to him, and I can understand his surprise. We haven't been here that long, he must think I'm easily corrupted or something, "what happened to you?"

"Is it bad?" I ask him. He doesn't hesitate—he shakes his head.

"No, I mean it looks _good_...you just look _so_ different." We head into the cafeteria; I listen to him ramble off about how his classes are, and what he likes about them, and what he's learning. I have always been interested—and a little envious—of his passion for knowledge. He just goes from one topic to the next, transitioning smoothly that I don't even try to talk too much. "How are your classes?"

"They're okay," I say, "they're nothing like yours though, Mr. I-skipped-a-grade-because-my-brain-is-huge," he rolls his eyes at me, but still laughs.

"You are a grade under me too."

"I'm aware," I reply, "but that doesn't mean I'm stupid. Enough about me though, how many friends have you made, I've barely seen you since we got here." It's been about a week and a half now since we arrived. And about a week since I've been to the pit. I always see Caleb around with some new person, while I either walk alone or with Christina, Al, and Will.

"Just a few," Caleb shrugs. I suppress the urge to roll my eyes at him—he says a few, yet our definitions differ greatly. Caleb's always been better at making friends and talking to people. I'm lucky Christina has the personality she does, otherwise any other roommate would have suffocated me with a pillow in my sleep by now. I lack the skills for communication when it comes to meeting new people, making me easily disliked. "What about you?" He asks, "you're suddenly this new person...wearing make-up and dark clothes... you're certainly not the Beatrice Prior I came here with." I can't make him call me Tris—old habits. He's always called me Beatrice.

"Of course I am," I reply quickly, "I'm just making some minor alterations."

"Whatever you say." For a while we eat in silence, until Caleb brings up a new topic about the sciences he's taking. A girl—Susan?—comes over with a boy by her side, talking to Caleb about some lab project. They don't pay much attention to me until I stand up and tell my brother I'm going to go find Christina. Not even a 'goodbye', or a 'see you later', Caleb just says "Okay," and I'm off.

I imagine Christina is with Will, but I see him, with Al, and a few others who go to the pit, across the cafeteria without Chris by his side. I walk over to the group anyway, squeezing in between Uriah and a girl to his left, "Hey Tris—! Wow. You look different. Christina got to you," he laughs, "but no, it looks good on you."

"Thanks." I don't feel out of place next to them, now that I most likely look like I'm one of them. They're talking about plans to go to the pit tonight, and I can't help but feel a little giddy. I want to join them—I actually want to find Four again.


	3. Addicted

**A/N: You are all super nice, and you're also in luck because I'm on winter break for the next two weeks starting today so I will hopefully and most likely be updating regularly (like every two days, maybe sooner) Also, this is continuing off the last chapter as the same day, it doesn't seem like it now that I've reread it but I promise you it is. **

**One last note: I am in the process of writing this story in Tobias's point of view as well. **

CHAPTER 3 – ADDICTED

I'm nothing like my brother, academically.

Christina is half asleep to my right while I keep glancing at the clock. We've already been chastised once for not paying attention, I don't plan on making a habit out of it. I tuned out most of the lesson, though I heard enough bits and pieces to know what she was talking about.

Sort of like an old caste system, '...the segregation of people based on values is in our future...' She sounds like a fortune teller, but a part of me believes she's right. We all know enough to understand that our society is not perfect, and that sooner or later they're going to try and keep order any way they can. But then again, they usually leave us alone for the most part anyways.

"I'll stop there," she sighs, "since most of you aren't paying attention anymore." It's not like we want to ignore her, it just happens. Christina perks up, nearly bouncing in her seat.

"What are you suddenly so excited for?" I ask her. There's a look in her eyes – like adrenaline swimming beneath the color – and she grins at me like an idiot. I'm not sure if I should be scared, I've never seen this much energy from her.

"Uriah wants us to meet him at the pit tonight – you, me, Will, Al...we're meeting him and his brother. They have a surprise, and Uriah says it's amazing!" I can't help my own excitement bubbling up inside me. I can't tell if it's from thinking about it, or being included.

"Do we get to know what it is before we go?" Christina shrugs her shoulders.

"I'm not sure, but Uriah wouldn't get us into anything dangerous." I have to take her word for it – and this feeling that tells me she's right.

XxXxX

I sit on the bathroom sink while Christina reapplies my make-up. Most of it had worn off, which bothered her since lunch. Her sighs of frustration when my eyelids twitch are quite amusing since I'm not used to having someone touch my eyes. Especially not with pencils, or brushes.

"You gotta learn to keep your eyes still," She grumbles, wiping a spot she over applied to.

"Sorry," I say, exhaling. When she thinks she's done a good job, she pulls away and throws the materials into her bag. We go back to the room so she can drop it off and get changed; I stay in the same clothes, I can't get over them.

"Oh, one more thing," Christina walks towards me, taking my hair in her hands and brushing through it. She pulls through knots and tangles, barely even hurting me. She reminds me of when my mother used to brush my hair; I would always sit so still and just wait for the bristles to tease the strands.

Christina has this nature about her, almost nurturing, "do you have any little siblings?"

"That's random," Christina says, but I hear her smiling, "but yeah, I have a little sister. Her name is Rose. Why?"

"You just reminded me of how my mother used to brush my hair. It made me wonder if you cared for a brother or sister at some point." I shrug, and she puts the brush up on top of my dresser. She fans my hair out, down my shoulders and my back, parting my hair on the side a little. She smiles, nodding as she finishes and we head out, meeting up with Will and Al.

I still feel too closed off around Al – I try not to leave Christina's side.

XxXxX

"Yeah, you guys made it!" Uriah cheers; he wraps his arms around me, swinging me around. I laugh, gripping his shoulders so I don't slip through, despite how strong he's holding me. He has a firm grip, which I appreciate because he doesn't let go until I'm standing, "You're gonna love it. So long as you don't have a fear of heights."

"What are we doing?" I ask. There's that excitement in his eyes, like the kind Christina had earlier today. But I don't find it nerving this time.

"Kind of an initiation," Uriah says. He's being vague – the jumping off a building wasn't enough initiation, that now we have another addition to an adrenaline rush involving heights... yet I feel just as excited. Maybe Christina's right, maybe I do have a dead wish.

I see Four across the room, talking with a boy, maybe about his age, who looks like Uriah. That must be his brother. It's a rare moment, since Four looks genuinely happy. This is the second time I've seen him this way, the first being when he told me I could lie to him.

"Zeke!" Uriah calls, waving him over. Four's looking at me. I smile, a little shy, and wave. He nods, returning a smile back, "they're ready to go." I see Zeke turn back to him, he asks him something but Four shakes his head.

And then Zeke is with us, greeting us. We head out one of the back ways, one that Zeke and Uriah seem to know too well, and then we're outside, sprinting across the street. I'm not sure how long we run for, my legs ache and my lungs burn as I try to keep up with them. I'm out of breath by the time we reach a polished lobby of a towering building. It's the Hancock building, I've seen it from my window in the dorm but I never thought I'd ever go inside it.

Uriah, Christina, and Zeke all bet on one of the three elevators, anticipating which will be the first to open. They push the buttons on each, and then begin to bang on the elevator doors, howling energetically. They don't even care that there could still be people in this building and it makes me laugh. Christina gets me to join, and soon my palms are slapping cool metal.

Zeke's opens first, and he tackles Uriah who was trying to get a hit in. He's got him in a headlock, dragging him into the elevator while he kneads his knuckles into Uriah's skull. Christina is laughing into Will's shoulder; Al is laughing also. I have to join in, because this is the happiest moment I've ever experienced.

When Zeke finally releases Uriah, we're on the twenty-fifth floor, "Marlene, Shauna, Tori, and some others are gonna be waiting for us when we get up there," Zeke says, looking around at us, "I hope you guys enjoy flying."

It takes a few minutes – I mostly listen to the chatter from the others while we wait for the elevator to reach the ninety-ninth forth. It's dark all the way down the rest of the shaft, the glass flooring showing us just how high up we are. We have to climb the stairs to get up to the roof, but when we do I have to stop.

I've never been up this high; I've never looked down at a bustling city, at night, from the top of a building. Everything looks so small, but the city looks huge. I see a span of lights, all across almost like a grid, and it's beautiful. It's breathtaking.

Zeke jumps down from the top of the vent, pulling a metal harness with him, "who's going first?" It's attached to a zip line, yet I don't see where the line ends.

"I am!" A girl, Marlene, calls out with her arm raised. She's excited, nearly jumping over the harness as she gets up. She lies, facing up toward the sky while Zeke and Uriah tighten the straps around her body. She gives them a thumbs up and they let her go, and I watch her disappear in the bright darkness.

I let a few people go before me; Christina sits in it, facing the way she'll be going. They tighten her in and then release her; I listen as her screaming becomes distant and I suddenly feel anxious. Uriah says something to me, I assume it's my turn because he's holding his hand out for me.

Cautiously, I take it. Again, his firm grip has subdued most of my fear and I'm lying, face down towards the ground as they tighten the harness around my ribcage and my waist. "Don't forget to pull the brake at the bottom," Uriah says over the wind. I nod, and he pats my shoulder before they tug me back and throw me forward.

The scream I was prepared to release is stuck in my throat; all I can see are blurs of light, and glares off glass windows as I zip through the air. My heart is practically in my throat, but I throw my arms out at my sides anyway.

I'm flying.

I'm flying.

The lights smear past my eyes, and then I'm looking at my reflection on one of the dark buildings. My hair is all over the place, in my mouth from screaming, being whipped back by the air. I look careless, and I feel free.

I'm flying.

The building ends, and I'm looking down again across the fair ground. The Ferris Wheel is standing tall, but it's unlit. Summer is over, so it makes sense. But the lights that keep the grounds lit shine bright, so I can see the attractions and the trees around the fence.

In one building, there's a light on and I see a little girl staring wide-eyed out the window at me. She's jumping excitedly, I'm not sure she even knows I'm wearing the harness. I wonder if she truly believes I'm flying. So I wave at her, and she waves back.

The line is going down then, angling me like I'm going to hit the pavement. My heart lurches, and I'm unsure of if this is when I should pull the brakes but the closer I get I see that the line still goes. My fingers grab the brake anyway, but I don't pull down just yet.

I'm lower than before, and the line dips down into a dark alley. There's a bright 'X' against a back wall, and I see people below. I spot Christina and Will the closer I get; then they're all shouting to pull the brake. My fingers are so numb from the adrenaline, that I have to pull a little harder just to get them to work.

I stop just a good few feet away from the 'X', and cheers erupt all around me. I let out a scream of pure triumph and pure terror because my heart is still beating rapidly. Hands tug me down while someone else opens the clips on the harness. I am down on my shaky legs, holding Christina for support. She's laughing at me, but also laughing with me.

We wait for Al, and then Uriah, and then Zeke to reach the end. The air is quiet now, without all of our screams but we're cheering boisterously through the streets as we head back to the pit. Some of the guys, like Zeke or Uriah or Will, are jumping over garbage bins and climbing over cars. They're insane, but yet I find it hilarious.

Marlene is carrying Shauna on her back, they're laughing as they dodge invisible things and punch street signs. Christina is running beside me, howling into the air. They're shouting a chant, something about being dauntless, about being fearless.

And I know I've ever been happier.

We're wreaking havoc across the streets of Chicago; Christina tugs on my sleeve, steering me towards one of the alleys that the others have cut through. Zeke stands on a garbage bin, climbing the fence that cuts off the pathway before helping Shauna over, and then Marlene. Uriah gets onto the bin and balances on top of the chain link fence, before he careless flings himself over onto the pavement. Al and Will get over easily, while Christina climbs the bin and helps me up, "Together?" She laughs.

"Together!" I nod; we don't even climb up the fence. We grab the top of it and just throw ourselves over. My knees are sore from the impact, but we keep running. I don't even know which way we've gone, or how we got back but soon enough we're landing in the net and greeted by cheers from others in the pit.

This time I'm the last one to jump, but when I hit the net I'm the happiest I've ever been. The rush from tonight, it should be too much for one night but it's not. I'm craving more.

A pair of strong hands pull me down from the net, and I'm staring at Four. I must be grinning like an idiot, because he's smirking. I'm breathless from too many things tonight but the look he's giving me tops them all, "I take it they gave you the full run." I nod, laughing.

"Four!" Someone calls him from across the room, beckoning him over and he checks to make sure I've got my footing before he runs off. Christina finds me, wrapping her arms around my neck and jumping up and down. Her laughter in my ear is the most euphoric sound I've ever heard. All of this, everything that's taken place tonight...it's like waking up.

"I'm gonna get something to drink," Christina says, releasing her grip on me.

"I think I will too," I say. She claps me on the back and she pulls me with her; my legs are still shaking but I keep running.

XxXxX

I don't specifically remember how much I drank last night. I know it wasn't a lot, but I have a slight headache and I'm small, so I assume a minimum of three drinks.

Christina sits up, rubbing her eyes. She lets out a high-pitched yawn, and then burst out laughing. "Last night was sick."

I laugh, nodding. This high inside my chest has died down, and right now it feels like it never will. And I'm completely okay with that.

I know my parents wouldn't want me running around like that, creating hell in the middle of the night. Ignoring curfew, and hanging in an underground compound of tunnels but I'm not sure I even care. I won't tell Caleb about it, because I know he'd be overprotective and try to keep me from going.

They all have good intentions, I know they do. I respect them for that, but I can't just give this up now. Walking away is not an option, I'm addicted.

Christina stands up and despite how sluggish the alcohol has probably left her, she grabs new clothes and heads for the showers. I lay in bed a few minutes longer, thinking about last night. I think about how it was Four who pulled me out of the net. Was he waiting for me?

I run my fingers through my sleep and wind-knotted hair and rise. I grab the clothes Christina left out for me, black ones of course, and head for the showers as well.

Afterwards, Christina shows me how to apply the make-up, and when I've passed her inspection I think I've got it down. It's not that hard, I just need hands that don't tremble.

We head to breakfast, and then to our first few classes of the day. I'm distracted all through class, but most of it I already know.

We meet up with Will and Uriah during lunch, "where's Al?" I ask, glancing around. He's usually always here.

"Don't know," Uriah shrugs, taking the seat across from Will, "I haven't seen him today."

"That's weird," Christina says, "maybe he just got caught up after class or something."

"So," Uriah says, leaning towards my chair more, "how did you like zip lining through the city?" I don't think I can even explain the feeling it gave me. _Euphoric_ doesn't seem to be a strong enough word anymore for something like that.

"It was amazing," it's the only way I can describe it, "I wasn't expecting that last night." Uriah laughs, digging into the food on his tray.

"Yeah, we're gonna probably go again sometime before the winter starts. You gonna go again?"

"Yeah," I say, "I am."

XxXxX

It's Saturday night, almost eleven-thirty, and Eric is about to start another fight at the pit.

I think it's a rematch between the two from the last fight since the boy Eric was rooting for disappointed him. This is the first Saturday I've been here and apparently, on Saturdays, he always has a lot planned. I'm sure that should scare me.

I keep looking around for Four; it's been a few days since he helped me out of the net, and I haven't seen much of him around here since. Occasionally, I'll see him lurking around the back, only stopping to talk to someone he knows or to make sure everything is in order.

He's strange, but I think that's why I'm so drawn to him.

Christina and Will left me by myself a while ago; Uriah is off with Marlene, getting ready to watch the fight. I saw Zeke with Four, but now he's with Shauna and they're laughing about something.

I see him then, standing at the railings on the upper level, glancing down. I can't exactly tell if he's looking at me, but I think he is. He nods, motioning to come up and I discreetly point to myself. He nods.

I'm not sure where the stairs are, though I don't waste a second. I don't want to keep standing down here in the midst of everything, so I watch him as he heads down the ramp toward the stairs, "Hey," he says. A shy smile comes across his face.

"Hi," I say, trying not to sound breathless from the climb.

"I didn't get a chance to ask you how the zip lining went."

"It was incredible. I'm looking forward to doing it again," I answer as we begin to walk back the way he came.

"Are you going tonight?"

"Uh no," I say, shaking my head, "but Uriah says they plan to go again before winter." Four nods for a moment, "so why are we up here?"

"Do you not want to be?" He asks. I shake my head again.

"No, I mean I like it up here," I reply, sliding my fingers along the railing. It looks over the entire pit where we are, I understand why he likes it up here, "I'm just surprised you want me up here with you." He scoffs, but doesn't respond for a moment.

"I brought you up here for two reasons," he says, stopping just at the middle of the room, "one, because the fights can get rough down there and you won't be able to see when everyone tries to get a better look. And two, because I want you up here." He _wants_ me up here? Like, with him...?

"Okay," I don't really know what to say. He smirks a little at my lack of response, and then looks down as Eric begins to announce the short list of rules, "they can't concede?"

"They used to be able to," Four answers. I take this moment to look at him; even slouched against the railings he still looks so tall. His leg is bouncing, like he's anxious, "but since Eric has become the tyrant of this place nobody's allowed to concede."

"Can't you do something about it?" I ask. Four shrugs, and turns to look at me.

"I could, but Eric has more influence around here," he explains, shaking his head, "and if people want to associate themselves with him, then they'll follow whatever rules he makes. I'd rather not further involve myself." From where we're standing, I can see Eric glancing up at us. He looks like he's glaring, probably at me.

I am not his favorite person. So why Four thinks it's okay for me to be up here with him confuses me. Aren't I supposed to be trying to at least avoid any more conflict with Eric?

"That's not fair, if there are three people in control," at least three that I know of.

"There used to be five of us," Four says suddenly, searching my face for a reaction. Something tells me they knew Eric was one and bailed, so I'm not surprised only two others stayed. But I ask anyway.

"What happened to the other two?" He turns back to the fight for a moment. Eric looks pissed; I'm assuming the fight is the same as last week's.

"Eric owes me ten bucks," he sighs, "usually he's good at picking the skilled ones." Four looks a little smug as he speaks – I bite my lip to keep from smiling. "Eric got the other two to go against each other, claiming one was more useful in his position than the other. That caused an annoying argument between the two for weeks and eventually Tori and I got so irritated we told them just to go. Eric wouldn't even try that with Tori or me, thankfully, but that still doesn't stop him from trying to mess with me." He's referring back to my question now. I nod slowly, understanding.

"Why can't you or Tori do something about him?" I want to ask if he's afraid of Eric, but a voice in the back of my head is telling me I might offend him if I bothered.

"It's a complicated issue," it's all he gives me. I sigh and watch the fight more. Eric looks deadly calm, glaring at the boy down on the ground. He tells two larger men by his side to get him off the mat and when they do I try not to think of where he's being taken.

That is if they'll even take care of him afterwards.

"I have a question that's been bugging me for a few days now," Four says, standing up straighter, "hopefully I don't offend you." Offend me? I'm wondering now if I should start walking away, but he sucks in a breath and asks, "How old are you?"

So I laugh, probably a little too hard, "Sorry." I say after a moment, "I'm seventeen. I know...I look younger." He looks relieved. Was that really bugging him? I know I probably look about fifteen, but I don't think I'd be here if I was. My fifteen year old self would be too terrified – and back in New York.

"You look seventeen," he says slowly. Now I do.

"Thanks to Christina," I say with a nod. If it weren't for her and that makeup bag... We're quiet, watching as Eric has the two men set up a new event. There's a wooden backboard, with a human shape marked into it. There are slices and dents all over the outer edges; target practice? "What is he doing now?"

"Watch," And we do. Although I suddenly see Christina step out into the middle of the floor. Eric says something to her I don't hear over the noise. She goes to stand in front of the target, and Eric looks up at Four motioning him to go down there.

I'm horrified, "wait, what is he doing?" I demand, stopping Four from walking past me. He doesn't look happy all of a sudden, and he removes my hand from his arm. His palms are rough, and calloused.

"He's picked Christina as the target," Four says, "I have to."

"Have to...n-no!" Is he crazy? Christina could get hurt. She _will_ get hurt! Somehow. It's sick – using a real person as a target. What even is the weapon of choice, I wonder, but either way I'm not going to watch Christina stand there while they aim at her.

So I'm sprinting then, ignoring Four telling me to stop and when I get back on the floor I shove through the group that's formed. "Christina!" She looks at me, shaking her head. This is not okay. I try to run to her, but I'm yanked back by the fabric of my shirt.

"Tris!" It's Four. I knew he would catch up to me. I just needed more time. The crowd is noisy, getting irritated that nothing has taken place yet. Eric steps down from where he's standing and starts towards me. I hear Four curse behind me, and his fingers release my shirt.

"What do you think you're doing, stiff?" Eric demands, towering over me. This is not good. I wasn't thinking, but at the same time I was thinking about Christina. What's my best option? Watch – or barely watch – my best friend get aimed at, or take her place? Four is dead silent behind me, barely even moving as far as I can tell.

"I'm going to take her place," I say as confidently as I can manage. I hear Four behind me, protesting and Christina staring at me wide-eyed across the gap. "I'll be the target."

"Same rules apply then," Eric says after a minute, smirking at me. "You flinch, and it's your third strike." This is a test of bravery. To not flinch, I have to make myself relax. I see Christina, about ready to protest as well but she's dragged away from the target and I go to take her spot. "Do the honors, Four?"

Four is glaring at me. He's pleading with me at the same time, piercing me against the backboard with his eyes. Honestly, I'm glaring at myself too, but I made this mess so I'll deal with it. Eric hands him a total of four knives. Knives?

Now I'm just hoping Four knows how to aim.

I release a shaky breath, and hold my hands behind my back to make myself thinner. Four turns the first knife over in his hand. Everyone is silent around us, and before I can even blink I hear the knife slam into the wood by my arm. He's close, but not close enough because Eric mutters something to him.

I have to close my eyes, if I don't watch him I can relax better, "Eyes open." Four commands. All humor is gone from him – he's being serious, his tone is like he's scolding a child and maybe I am one. But I refuse to watch my friend be aimed at, so here I'll stand.

I open my eyes again, just in time to catch the second knife stick a few inches from my neck. He caught my hair. A few strands land in dead strings on my sweater, "You can get closer," Eric says.

"You want me to take a little off the top?" Four asks. He's adding fuel to Eric's fire, what is wrong with him?

"Yeah, maybe just a little," Eric responds, smug. Four pulls his arm back, and in a flash he releases the third knife. I don't see where this one ends up exactly, but I know it's just above my head from the way the board vibrates beneath my skull. Any closer and I know he'll catch me.

Four holds the last knife, twisting it around his fingers like the first one. He's watching me, like he's deciding where he'll aim for next. I want it to be my shoulder, or at the very least my sleeve. But he throws the last one, and a hot, searing pain shoots through my ear.

He cut me.

I have to blink back tears. "Points for bravery, stiff," Eric finally says, "but I'm not revoking your strikes." I didn't expect him to. I didn't flinch. This should be an achievement, yet I don't feel so proud of myself at all. Everyone disperses around the pit once again, and Four turns away from me.

I'm about to confront him about cutting me when Christina throws a rough punch at my shoulder, "what is wrong with you?" She asks, though I see the relief on her face.

"I'm sorry," I automatically say, throwing my arms around her neck. She hugs me back, and starts chastising me for going against Eric the way I did. In a way, her scolding me makes me feel better. But I feel horrible, knowing that Four is also angry with me. "Um, I need to go," I say, pulling away from her.

She sighs, but nods and I run after him. He's heading into the back, probably to sulk but I have to talk to him.

I'm not angry about my ear, I don't think it even matters to me anymore the pain doesn't affect me. He stops just as he's about to turn the corner and I know it's because he hears me, "I'm sorry," I choke out, stopping just a few feet behind him.

His back is tense, his fists clenched at his sides, "That was idiotic, Tris."

"I already got the speech from Christina," I tell him.

"Well maybe you need to hear it from me too," he says. I don't need too, but if yelling at me will get him to look at me then I suppose I'll just have to listen to it again. He lets out a loud sigh and turns to face me, "are you alright?"

"It's just a cut," I reply, shaking my head. It's throbbing but that's the least of my problems.

"At least let me clean it," Four offers. I'm reluctant, since I don't need it to be treated. But I want to be on his good graces, so I nod and follow him further down the hall. We end up heading up a few flights of stairs. I didn't even know there was more stories to this place. There's a door just at the end, and when we step inside it's warm. Warmer than the underground air in the main room.

It looks almost like an apartment, "do you live here?" I ask, glancing around. I see why they prefer people to stay out of the hallways now. There's a bed on the opposite side of the room, and behind it are windows that look out above the city. I don't notice that I've stepped farther into the room until I hear his voice.

"Yes," he answers briskly. I take a step back, but keep my gaze on the window. It's beautiful, the view that he has. It suddenly plants an image in my mind of him, when he can't sleep, if he just stares out this window late at night, or early in the morning.

Four disappears from the room, and I hear the sound of water running. When he returns, he has a metal bowl filled with water and rag soaking in it. He steps closer to me, and lightly grabs my shoulders. He has me sit down on his bed, and I make myself sit on the edge.

He sits beside me, and brushes my hair away from my neck; his rugged fingertips tickle my skin and I can feel his slow and even breaths as they crash over me. I try not to move, I'm so anxious that I'm afraid I'll start to fall apart if I let myself relax.

He squeezes water from the rag, and holds my head still with his other hand. The blood has trickled down my ear, and some of it has stained the skin on my collarbone. Some clings to my shirt. Four presses the rag to my ear, and I wince at the cold. He has to scrub a little to get the blood that's started to dry but he manages to clean it all off.

He starts on the blood that's on my neck. I can feel his gaze, focused yet distracted as he works. I wonder what he's thinking. I know I'm an idiot, I did this to myself, "I'm sorry," I say again. It comes out like a choked whisper, this room is so quiet.

Four sighs and then stands, taking the bowl with him back to the other room. I can hear him dumping the water out into the sink, with the wet slap of the rag hitting the counter. I don't want him to be angry with me, and though he doesn't look like he is anymore I can tell he still feels unsettled about what he had to do tonight.

So I get up from the bed and go to the door, shutting it quietly behind me as I exit. I'll give him time.


	4. Human

**A/N: This is late, however, Happy Holidays! **

CHAPTER 4 - HUMAN

I lost track of how long I've stayed away from the pit. It's been two weeks, maybe a little more. Everytime Christina has asked I make up a lie about some school work – I'm pretty sure she knows I've been lying, but I'm not sure what to do. I'm almost positive Four is still unhappy with me. Now that I rethink what happened, I was being careless. But I couldn't watch it play out with Christina as the target.

I'm sitting at the end of my bed, finishing school work when Christina and Will walk into the room, "hey, we missed you at lunch...again," Christina says, plopping down onto her bed. Will sits beside her, so I shove my work onto the floor with a sigh.

"Sorry, I'm just behind," I reply. It's only Saturday, so I have the whole weekend to work on it but it keeps me busy. They've gone to the pit without me for the last few nights, although it doesn't seem like I've really missed much anyway.

"Are you gonna go with us tonight?" She asks, begging me with a sad expression. I want to go, but at the same time I'd rather not. I keep thinking about the incident; it won't stop replaying on my mind, the glare from Four, the aftermath... Four may have cooled down a little since the last time I saw him but I still don't think I'm ready to face him.

"I don't know," I say quietly. Christina sighs.

"What happened?" I know I should tell her, and so I do. They both listen as I tell them about going after him to apologize, and then going to his apartment so he can treat my wound. When I finish, they're staring at me but Christina's face is the first one to break into a grin.

"Four never brings anyone into his apartment," she says almost high-pitched, "maybe Zeke since they're best friends but he's never, ever brought anyone there!"

"Well you all said he doesn't have much friends," I point out, "he couldn't exactly take care of my cut in the middle of a hallway." Christina rolls her eyes at me, clapping her hands excitedly. I bury my face into my pillow, letting out a large groan so she knows I'm annoyed.

"I'm gonna leave you two to talk," Will says, standing up. He's enjoying my suffering. Traitor. Isn't he worried she's a little obsessed with what Four does or doesn't do? I can't ask him because the moment he leaves Christina bursts into million questions.

"I can't understand you!" I say, cutting her off. She's tripped over her words almost ten times in five seconds. Christina waves me off and kneels on the edge of her bed.

"Well what was his apartment like? Start there," Christina says. How could I forget it. Despite how small it seemed, it was amazing.

"Warm," it's the first thing I think of, and my face heats up. "Uh, it was a decent size area. His bed was by this huge window that looked over the city." I get that mental picture of him again, the one where he's looking out at all the lights and I smile.

"That sounds awesome!" Christina comments. She's biting her lip like she has something to confess, but asks, "did you guys talk about anything?"

"No," I say, a little too sadly, "he just cleaned my cut." My fingers automatically touch it; it's been healing but it still hasn't gone away.

"Come with us to the pit tonight," Christina says again, she grabs my hands and squeezes them lightly. "Maybe he'll be okay."

_Maybe_ is a strong word, despite its lack of reassurance given the situation. But I agree to go anyway. I don't necessarily have to talk to him, especially if he's still a little angry. She never said I had to try and talk to him anyway.

XxXxX

Christina sets out a pair of black jeans with double zippers at the top, with a plain white t-shirt that clings to my torso and waist, and a black jacket with leather triangles fitting in like mosaic pieces. Where she gets these clothes, I'll never know, but they're comfortable to move around in.

She lets me keep my hair down, but offers to do my eyes for me. I let her, and we're ready to go.

We don't jump down to the net this time, instead we go through a door on one of the outer buildings that's just a little farther from where we usually enter. It's dim in the corridor, lit only by blue lights that are spread out quite far from each other, and it's cold.

I don't imagine myself using this passage too often; I'm glad Christina knows where to go at least, because we eventually get to the pit. Like always, it's packed full with people but by the looks of it, more so than usual.

I wonder what Eric has planned.

I try to keep my eyes from wandering, but I know exactly who I'm searching for. Four. I can feel him staring at me, but I don't know where he is; or I'm just paranoid of running into him, which should not be the case since he's usually not hanging around the main area.

"Tris!" A pair of arms lifts me from the ground. I'm too stunned to scream, but when I look at who's holding me I start laughing; I can't tell if it's from fright or relief. Uriah holds me, shaking me, "where have you been? Hiding on us, huh?"

"Something like that," I say as he sets me down.

"Well you're here now, that's all that matters," Uriah grins.

For most of the night, I stick around Christina, Will, Al, or Uriah without seeing a glimpse of Four anywhere. Maybe he wasn't around tonight. I don't care, or at least that's what I keep telling myself. I know that the others will be staying a while longer, so I tell Uriah that I'm heading back early.

Except I don't head back to the school, not right away. I head for the fairgrounds; it's quiet, and not the dark shields me pretty easily. The Ferris Wheel still stands, but it looks sad without its thousands of lights. I pick up little rocks on my way to it, not exactly sure what I want to do with them.

Something makes me search the area around me before I step on the first rung of the ladder. I climb up to the first landing, one of the cars is blocking me from sight, so I don't worry about being seen. I sit down, turning the stones around in my hand.

I toss the first rock, listening for the light thud against the dirt; when I hear it, I toss another one down. I don't know why I'm here, maybe to recollect my thoughts and figure out what to say to Four. The wind is noisy in my ears, being this high up, so it keeps the thoughts at bay.

I'm not sure I have anything to say to him; I apologized. I was hoping he would say something else, but he never did. I'm at my last rock; it's a materialistic thought, not wanting to throw this one because it's the last one I have. There's nothing special about it at all.

"I thought it was you up there," I recognize that voice too well – it belongs to Four, who's craning his neck to look up at me. Did he follow me? I'm not as observant as I thought then, because I never once noticed him if he did.

"How did you find me?"

"You're not the only person who hides around the fairgrounds when they're sulking," he answers. I stand up and walk to the other side of the car to get a better look at him. He's watching me, looking a little anxious as I almost lose my balance. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets, with the collar of his jacket pulled up around his neck.

"I'm not sulking," I retort defensively, sitting back down. I don't plan on getting down, not with him here. I'm finding it easier to talk to him when I can avert my eyes elsewhere. Four laughs, shaking his head.

"You're the only person I know who's crazy enough to climb a death trap, you know," he says after a moment. Funny he should notice anything about me, since he's always hiding. But he's serious then, all humor gone. It's one thing – maybe the only thing – I've truly noticed about him. How he can be nice and teasing and then instantly serious. "Can I talk to you for a second?" He asks, sounding like a child who's just been scolded. I bite my lip; _can I talk to you_ is always one of those talks you never want to have but know it needs to be said.

I'm not sure how I should feel; terrified because now we're probably going to lash out at each other, or grateful because he finally has something to say to me other than 'your actions were idiotic'.

"You have to come up here," I say. He's staring at me. Thinking about what I just said. I don't clearly catch what he mutters, but I know it wasn't a civilized phrase.

"You don't make anything easy, I'm finding," Four says, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. When he lets his hands drop back to his sides, he glances up at me, almost pleading. And I realize then, that he's afraid to come up here.

"You're afraid of heights," I say. I watch some of the strength, the tension, leave his shoulders.

"Everyone's afraid of something, Tris." I can't argue with him, not when he makes a good point. I didn't think he was afraid of anything. He's so glorified by my friends, that his confession now makes me realize he's just human. I suddenly realize how much I don't care about the titles he's given, in a way, we're similar.

"Come up here." He doesn't move from where he's standing. I see him shaking his head, and I'm prepared to stand up and meet him down there when he reluctantly walks towards the ladder. I watch as his knuckles turn whiter the higher he climbs. I actually feel proud of him.

The ladder creaks beneath him; it didn't for me, but I'm almost positive he weighs more. I can hear a string of swears coming from him the closer he gets. I try to hide my grin but it doesn't let up.

He's almost at the landing, so I reach my hand out, holding onto one of the poles so I don't lose my balance. He goes to grab the last rung, and his fingers graze mine. There's a jolt, like he shocked me and maybe he did since it's colder at night, but my heart speeds up a little.

Four wraps his fingers around my waiting palm and gets up, standing directly in front of me now. He's sweating – I didn't think his fear was this bad. He won't even look down, but he tries to glance around. He eyes the skyline, and the lights, but his eyes return to my face and stay there. "That wasn't so bad," I say, smiling a little. He gives me a look that tells me otherwise, but doesn't comment on it. "So...you wanted to talk to me?"

He nods, sucking in a breath. His eyes catch the sight of the ground and then shoot back up to me. "I'm pretty sure you know why... the other night..." Four says, a little breathless from the climb. I nod. "Why did you leave?"

His question catches me off guard. I don't know what he means, "you were angry."

"I wasn't angry with you," he sighs, "not really. Not while you were in my apartment. I was more upset that I had to hurt you just to end that whole thing."

"But you wouldn't talk to me," I say, almost sadly.

"I didn't know what to say," Four replies quietly, "honestly... I stabbed you in the ear, and we were both pretty pissed at that situation. What exactly could I have said to have made anything better?"

"You could have said you weren't angry with me," I am a little angry now. I believed he was angry with me, for those two weeks. I know it was partially my fault for not talking to him sooner but he wouldn't say anything to me when it happened. What else could I have done?

"If I had been angry with you, I would have left you standing at that target. I wouldn't have brought you back to my apartment to clean your cut—,"

"Well I'm not a mind reader, Four!" I snap. He sighs loudly, but he sounds like he's closer to me, like his lips are at my ear.

"You're right," he says calmly, after a long moment. I look back at him; every time I expect him to yell he doesn't. I find myself disappointed again. I want a better reaction from him, but he's giving me nothing. "You're not."

"I honestly wish you would just yell at me already," I say, holding my head. I think I'm getting a headache from this conversation.

"Why would you say that?" He asks, "I don't want to yell at you."

"Well I want you too!" I reply, "anything but telling me I'm right...I know me taking Christina's place was dangerous and stupid, and you could have hurt me, but dammit Four you're driving me crazy! You're confusing me by not being angry with me... I'm angry with myself, I'm angry with you for having no reasonable reaction to any of this—!"

"I think right now it's you that's driving yourself crazy, Tris," he says, staring at me like I should be understanding him. "That was a hint, by the way." I sigh. "Feel better? Now that you've practically thrown every thought of yours at me..."

"No." I mutter, "not really."

"I think you're driving yourself crazy," he repeats, "for the last two weeks you've avoided the pit, you won't even look at me... did you think I would stay mad at you this long?"

"You wouldn't talk to me when it happened," I say again, sounding helpless.

"I didn't know what to say," Four makes me look at him, grabbing my shoulders and lifting my chin up, "I didn't know if I should apologize for being angry with you, for catching your ear... I knew I should have apologized for something but that situation is not something that happens that often. There were so many things wrong—unnecessary and unordinary about it. When you kept apologizing, I was no longer mad at you, Tris."

"You could have just said that," I reply. He laughs a little, shaking his head.

"I could have, yeah. Okay? But I didn't even feel like I was there. And when I brought you back to my apartment, all I could think about was 'is there some way to take this back' like that would somehow make your ear stop bleeding. Like it would somehow make me less angry with myself for snapping at you..."

"You had to know I wasn't just going to watch Christina stand there..."

"Yeah, well I would preferred it to be anyone but you," he says. I remember just standing in front of the target... his eyes never left mine, and somehow that silent connection just made me trust him. That he wasn't going to hurt me – at least not intentionally. "Do you feel better now?"

"Sort of," I answer, chewing on my lip. The skin is raw by now, it stings when I run my tongue over it but it's a nice distraction.

"Can we get down now?" Four asks. This time I laugh, and with a nod we start down the ladder together.

XxXxX

I'm woken up by Christina tripping over my shoes. Her palms slam down onto the edge of my mattress, jolting me awake. "Are you trying to kill me?" She asks, stabilizing herself.

"You? What about me?" I say, feeling my heart in my throat, "you gave me a heart attack." I sit up, brushing my hair out of my face just as she sits down on her bed.

"Where did you go?" She asks, "Uriah said you left."

"Uh, I came back here," I lie. She looks unconvinced and I sigh, "okay, fine. That was a lie."

"I could tell."

"I went to the fairground, just to be by myself..." Christina's waiting for me to say more. I don't know why I try and hide it from her whenever I run into Four... I wouldn't be surprised if she was born with a lie detector for a brain. "Four followed me."

"He followed you?"

"Well, he wanted to talk to me," I say, "I guess it was just easier that way. Away from the noise, the people." She nods. It's pretty reasonable.

"So what did you guys talk about?" She tries to ask this casually, yet I can tell she's dying to know.

"It was mostly me being hysterical," I say, shaking my head at myself. "God, he must have thought I was crazy. I was practically ranting everything I felt for the last two weeks and he just stood there taking it. I think I actually begged him to yell at me." Christina starts laughing, and I know that I have to because thinking about it now, how crazy I must have sounded, is quite funny.

"Four doesn't have much experience with girls," Christina says through a laughing fit, "I doubt he knew what to do about a crazy, screaming girl."

"I wasn't screaming," I say.

"You may as well have been," she replies. She laughs some more and then says, "poor Four." Poor Four indeed; he was so calm. Why couldn't I have kept my head clear like he did? "At least he's not angry anymore, right?" She is right; I'm hoping things get better between us from this point on.

"Right."


	5. Stiff

**A/N: I apologize, this should have been up yesterday but I have a project that I needed to get out of the way first. I thank you for your patience and I wish you all a Happy New Year! Also, if you want to know when updates are, you can follow me on twitter: ** JennaTFA

**I will post about updates, maybe get a chance to talk to some of you, and even answer any questions you might have, etc. You will also get updates about new stories; I have a new website in the process as well so that you can find my stories in PDF form when they are finished. More to come on that later. For now, I'll shut up so you can read. This chapter is a little short, it lacks for me. But I will hopefully write an extra long chapter for you lovely readers very soon! If you read all of that, sorry for rambling and you are amazing.**

CHAPTER 5 – STIFF

It was almost peaceful.

I feel an impatient, rude, tap on my shoulder and turn around to see Molly and Peter. Christina is getting ready to stand, beside me, with Will already standing at the other side of the table, Peter sneers, "too bad he only got your ear..." I flinch when his fingers come in contact with the cut, "though I doubt he could do anything with that knife to fix your face anyway."

"He could have done much worse," Molly adds.

"He was just too afraid to hurt you, huh?" Peter snickers. I suddenly wonder what he means by that; did he follow us to the Ferris Wheel? Before I can even ask he's glaring at me, dead in the eye, "do you constantly have to make yourself news around here, don't you?"

"Get the hell out of here," Christina says, trying to turn me away from them. I'm too stubborn to back down though, she knows that.

"How do you do it?" Peter taunts, "you're a nobody. You're a _stiff_. Yet somehow you're this 'brave' hero."

"Well I don't get those titles by bullying those beneath me," I reply, referring to them. I know Peter's not an idiot – he knows what I just said. Though I can't say the same about Molly.

"You'd better watch out. If Eric picks you as the target, I'll volunteer myself to throw those knives and there goes you're not so pretty face."

"Can you even actually throw a knife, Peter?" I ask, "or do you just think you can?"

"Watch yourself," Peter hisses. He's close to my face, that I instinctively recoil back but not out of fear. Just out of mutual disgust. He turns away after a minute, with Molly right behind me.

Christina asks, "Does anyone else need a nap after dealing with them?"

"He's such a coward," I mutter, "what did he do? Mull over in his head what to say for the last two weeks?" And I thought he was smarter than that.

"While he may be smart, he's not the smartest person here." Christina says, finishing the food on her tray.

Al shrugged, "Maybe he just now heard about it." Possible, but not plausible; Peter seems to be the guy who knows everything about everyone.

"Well he's gone now," Uriah says, going back to his food. "Anyways, Zeke says this is the last week we can go zip lining again until the spring."

"Oh yeah, when are we going?" Christina asks.

He replies, "Probably Friday night. He's gonna be bringing some more friends this time, so if you guys want you can bring some too. But you've got me, so you don't need to," Uriah winks, which causes Christina to snort, shaking her head. I wonder if Four is one of those people, but given how much he hates heights I doubt it. Uriah turns to me, looking expectantly.

"What?" I ask.

"See, she tuned out because you insulted me," he says, sticking his tongue out at her. Christina rolls her eyes and I laugh.

"Damn, I'm sorry I missed that," I say; Christina and the others burst out laughing, and Uriah feigns a look of hurt in my direction.

"I'll forgive you for that, because I happen to enjoy your company stiff," he says.

"Don't call me stiff!" I protest with a sigh, "what do I have to do to make you stop calling me that?" They all glance at each other, some of them smirking. There's a feeling in my gut, one that's unsure about whatever they have in mind.

"How do you feel about tattoos?" He asks after a moment. I hadn't thought about getting a tattoo at all, it's not something I'm crazy about getting either. But I don't think it would do much harm.

"You're not serious," I reply.

"Dead serious."

What would my tattoo even be? I don't want something on a whim, something without meaning. If I'm going to get a tattoo, I want to be something I won't regret later. With a shrug I say, "...well, I'm not opposed to them, I guess."

"Alright, if you get a tattoo I'll stop calling you a stiff." He holds his hand out, like he's about to shake my hand. With a reluctant sigh, I reach across and shake his hand. Cheers erupt around us, and Christina shakes my shoulders. "But it's gotta be a good one."

"Define good," I say. He shrugs.

"Bigger than the size of a quarter...it can have meaning...not some cheap quote-y thing, please," I laugh, "...and it's gotta be where we can see it," he replies. I nod, and stand up.

"And where exactly will I be getting this tattoo done?" I ask.

"Tonight at the pit. I know a girl—amazing with the needle." Uriah promises. I feel like I should be more nervous that I'll be permanently marking my skin—except I don't. I'm not scared of this, and I wonder if that's because I have some weird trust in this boy or if I just don't process fear the same way as most.

XxXxX

"Have you thought about what you're gonna get?" Christina asks as we get to the pit. I shake my head; I hadn't really given it anymore thought today. Uriah is talking with his brother, Zeke, Four is standing with them. They're laughing, and I wonder if it's because Uriah has mentioned I'm getting a tattoo in exchange for him calling me something other than stiff. It's a weak deal, but not a horrible one.

As we approach them, Four's eyes meet mine. I see a glint of humor in them. He has to know. "So, you made a deal with my idiot brother?" Zeke asks me. I nod. "What's the deal?"

"He didn't tell you?" I ask. They shake their heads.

"I figured I'd let you do the honors," Uriah says.

"It was your idea," I reply.

"The fact that you actually agreed is startling," Four speaks up. I look up at him, "...his ideas usually end in disaster."

"Oh come on, Four," Uriah says, rolling his eyes, "this was actually a decent idea."

"I'm scared," Four retorts. I suck in a breath, feeling more confident.

"I'm getting a tattoo," I say, feeling slightly proud to admit it. They both stare at me, wide-eyed, unblinking. Zeke laughs.

"Please tell me you get to pick what it's going to be," he says. I nod again, and I see Four breathe a sigh of relief.

"Of course, I'm not an idiot," Uriah says, shaking his head. "She gets to pick it, I just said it had to be bigger than a quarter, it can have a meaning, but the only catch is that we have to be able to see it." He turns to me, "So, _stiff_—," I give him a look, but he stops me, "—hey, until that tattoo is on your skin I still get to call you stiff. We made a deal." I roll my eyes and he continues, "So, have you thought about what you're going to get?"

"Tori does offer ideas if you don't have one," Zeke cuts in. I feel relieved, but a little unsure at the same time. I don't exactly know if Tori likes me or not; when we first met I was a little tired of being scrutinized.

"Then I guess I'll see when I get there," I say.

"Let's go then," Uriah says, heading off with Zeke and Christina right behind him. I'm about to leave when I feel Four's hand grip my arm.

"You actually made a deal with Uriah?" He asks me. I nod. "I'm surprised he even set guidelines."

"Uriah wouldn't be a jerk to me," I say, surely. Four shrugs and follows me as we head in the direction they went. Uriah holds the door open for me, and I realize that we're in a different area of the pit—one I've never been. There are glass slabs with silhouettes of designs hanging all over the walls. Tori is standing by a chair, the needle all set and ready in her hands.

"Ah, you didn't tell me I'd be tattooing the _stiff_..." she says, smirking a little.

"My name's Tris," I say.

"Right, how could I possibly forget the name I was never told," Tori says. She has a dry sense of humor, but she doesn't seem like she's essentially being mean towards me. Just sarcastic—I guess I understand why they're friends with her—they're not always the nicest of people either. "You can take a look around, I need to go grab more sterile wipes." She leaves, and I head towards the wall in the back.

Most of them are of animals; stags, snakes, claws... I come across a slab with three birds; they look like they're flying downward. They remind me of my family, because there's three of them. And I've always associated flight with freedom, confidence. All of which my family has—they all know what they want to do, what they need to do.

"Find something?" Christina asks, coming up beside me. I nod.

"I think so." I reach up and pull it off the clip. The glass is smooth in my hands, the design has a texture of its own. A little rough. Tori returns, kicking the door shut behind her. She places a box next to the chair and looks directly at me.

"Found one?" She asks.

"Yeah," I answer, holding the slab out to her waiting hands. She takes it from me, glancing at it briefly before pointing at the chair and setting it aside.

"You ready to get marked up, stiff?" Uriah grins, leaning against the desk.

"Better get your 'stiffs' in now," Four says to him, grinning, "I don't think she's backing out."

"I'm not," I promise.

"Where do you want it?" Tori asks, holding a sterile wipe. _Where it can be seen_. I'm feeling a bit more confident than I should... _Where it can be seen. Where it can be seen_. It's an uncommon place, but I want to be able to see it as well.

"Right here," I answer, running my fingers over my collarbone. On the left side. Tori wipes the area down and turns the needle on; she moves my hair out of the way. The last thing I see before I close my eyes are a bunch of gazes on me. I stay completely still, waiting for the pin pricks. I am a little nervous now as her fingers grip my shoulder to hold me still. My heart is beginning to race, and then the needle is on my skin.

It hurts, especially on the base of my neck, on bone, but it's not unbearable. I relax slightly and just let the needle prickle and pinch my skin.

I don't know how long I've been in this chair, but after a while Tori turns the needle off, "You're all done." She says, glancing down at the work she's done. They're all still watching me when I look up.

"Well...?" I ask.

"I didn't think you'd actually do it," Zeke says, frowning slightly.

"You, my friend, owe me ten bucks," Four grins.

"You guys bet on this?" I sit up, wincing at the slight discomfort now.

"It looks nice!" Uriah says, clapping me on the back, "definitely a good one. And we can see it. I guess I can't call you stiff anymore."

"Nope, you can't," I smile. Christina holds my hair back, observing it much closer.

"Now I kinda want another tattoo," she says; I laugh.

"Well, this one's only free because I owed Uriah," Tori says, "any of you want one now, I'm charging."

"Damn," Christina sighs, "maybe next time." Tori had closed up right after we left; Christina kept trying to look at my tattoo as we walked back to the pit. "I would have never imagined you would actually get this done."

"Why? You all wanted me to remain a stiff?" I ask, lightly brushing my fingers over the irritated area. It hurt a little worse now than actually getting it done, but my shirt didn't rub against it or cover it. I could handle it.

"Not really," Christina shrugs, and speeds up to walk beside Uriah—who is telling a wildly inappropriate story. He practically has Zeke in stitches. Four slows down, falling into stride with me behind the others.

"Does it hurt?" He asks, his voice low enough so only I can hear him. Though I doubt the others would notice us—they're too busy laughing at Uriah's story.

"A little," I say, tracing it again. Four looks over at it, his eyes lingering.

"It looks nice," he says, a shy smile grazing his lips. They look soft.

"Thanks." I bite my lip to keep myself from grinning a little too wide. The comment already has my skin growing warm, I can only imagine how red my face must be. We don't say anything else, but the silence isn't awkward or intimidating, it's nice.

Four is a lot taller than me, not that I'm just now realizing this but his legs are longer so he's a little more up ahead than me. I take this time to look at him again; he walks a little tense, but it's also a little reckless. He doesn't really drag his feet, but he doesn't pick them up much either. And he usually walks with his hands in his pockets, like he is now. With his gaze to the floor when he thinks no one is looking.

He's kind of handsome, in a devil-may-care kind of way; his eyes are so deep-set. His eyelashes are quite long for a boy's, they touch the skin below his eyebrows. I also notice that his eyes are a deeper shade of dark blue than usual, they look like you could drown in the depths. And maybe I am, because I'm staring too long, too intently at him.

He must notice because he looks over his shoulder at me, with a faint smile tugging at his mouth. I avert my eyes to my shoes and keep walking. I think back to what Zeke had said earlier, about him not thinking I would go through with it—I think about it enough, that I nudge Four's arm and ask, "what was the bet? The one you and Zeke made."

Four smirks, "thanks for reminding me. Zeke didn't think you'd go through with getting a tattoo, but I knew you would." I'm not sure if I should suspicious of that, or flattered. Flattered that he saw that faith in me to go through on my word, or suspicious because he thinks I was being careless again. But he sounds almost sincere.

"How?" I pry. Four shrugs again, thinking.

"I'm not exactly sure, just a gut feeling I guess. But Zeke thought that he'd talk you out of it by telling you that Uriah's judgment is not always the best to go by." I nod, but shrug after a moment.

"Well Uriah has been nothing but amicable to me," I reply, "he's like a brother to me."

"Uriah could be anybody's brother," Four says with a smirk. I nod in agreement; Uriah has that friendly nature about him—whether you're the shyest person on the planet, or the biggest jerk, he seems to be that guy that could bring the good out, the fun out in anybody. "Well, you should go with your friends. I'd rather avoid Eric tonight." I can understand that—I would love to avoid him too.

"Okay," I say, biting my lip; old habits die hard. He nods and heads off in the direction Zeke went, while I follow Uriah and Christina over to grab a drink.


	6. Falling

CHAPTER 6 – FALLING

For the greater part of the week that follows, I try my best to steer clear of Caleb. I don't want him to see the tattoo yet—I know I can't hide it from him forever, but I could try. Uriah tries to talk me into getting another one, but I tell him I'll only get another one if he gets one with me.

"Oh come on," Uriah says, nudging my arm, "it wasn't bad at all, getting that first one."

"No, it's wasn't," I agree, "but I would prefer to still see my skin."

"I'm not saying get a sleeve," he replies, shaking his head. I shrug and turn back to my tray of untouched food. He reaches for the bread on the side and I don't smack his hand away this time. It's useless, because he's relentless. Lynn sits down across from us, rolling an orange across the table at him. "Why did you give me this?"

"Because I don't like oranges," Lynn says, "hey Tris."

"Hey," I reply.

"Since when?" Uriah asks her. Lynn gives him an unamused look.

"Since forever," she says, "when have you ever seen me eat one?" Marlene takes the seat beside her.

"Why do you grab them if you don't eat them?"

"What are they arguing about?" Marlene asks me.

"An orange," I say, smirking a little. It's a ridiculous object to argue over, but somehow they make it look serious. Uriah tries to list of times when he's seen her with one, while she either denies or explains that she never ate them. I have to laugh.

"Hey," Marlene speaks up, staring intently at her muffin, "Uriah, does Zeke still have that plastic-pellet gun?"

Uriah shrugs, "Probably, why?"

Marlene smirks, "I bet that you can't shoot this muffin off my head from a hundred feet away." I see Uriah grin—a mischievous glint in his eye. He cracks his knuckles and leans across the table, practically getting in her face.

"I bet you can't stand still and let me shoot that muffin off your head from a hundred feet away," he says, straightening up after a minute. "I've got to go get the gun, but you can bet I'm not backing down from this one." He holds his hand out and Marlene gives it a firm shake. "You guys want to be witnesses?" Lynn is already on her feet, so I stand up and Marlene takes her muffin with her as we leave the school grounds.

Uriah leads us down a back entryway, and I notice that it's by the apartments. Four's is all the way down at the end—I look away from it, but I wonder if he's there right now. Lynn hands Uriah a pin from her hair and he turns, jamming it into the lock.

There's a click and then he opens the door, "you guys stay here and keep watch. If anyone finds you guys, just tell'em to come in and see me. I'll make up a good lie." Lynn rolls her eyes, but nods and we wait by the door.

"I wonder if Shauna's down here," Lynn says after a moment, pressing her ear to one of the doors; I assume it's Shauna's. But Lynn starts laughing, covering her mouth with her hands; after a moment she listens in again, "I think somebody's getting laid in there..." Marlene smacks her on the arm.

"What is wrong with you? Don't listen in!" Marlene hisses.

"Calm down, it's not like I'm gonna try and barge in on them..." Lynn retorts, rolling her eyes again, "but I bet you the door's unlocked."

"You're a pervert," Marlene sighs.

"Hey Tris, wanna listen in?" Lynn smirks, offering room beside her. Marlene sighs beside me, shaking her head. I shake my head—I don't know much about sex, I'd prefer not to listen in. Though, with how quiet we're being I can hear some of what Lynn's listening in on. "Sound's like it's Lauren..."

"Will you stop trying to guess who it is?" Marlene asks, "get away from there—!" Uriah's voice comes from the room then. He appears in the doorway, holding the gun up.

"You guys are being awfully loud for trying to sneak around... I got it by the w—what is she doing?" He asks, pointing it at Lynn with a questioning look on his face.

"She's being a perv," Marlene frowns down at her muffin. Lynn backs up from the door, smirking.

"Chill out, Marlene. God, it's not like I was really doing anything..." she heads down the hallway and we follow her out. Uriah takes over then, and we found ourselves in a room full of targets, much like the one I stood in front of, punching bags, and tables with weapons laid out.

"Where are we?" I ask, glancing around. The more time I spend here, the more I realize that this compound is much bigger than I thought it was.

The room smells faintly of sweat, wood, metal, and cold air. It's a little cool in the room, enough to make bumps rise on my bare arms, but not enough to bother me.

"The training room," Uriah replies, flipping a switch on so all of the lights turn on. Marlene stands in front of one of the targets, placing the muffin on top of her head. She stands completely still while Uriah positions himself, holding the gun away from him, and stabilizing it with both hands.

"Just think, Mar," Lynn calls out, taunting, "if he misses you'll have a nice welt on your face." Marlene waves her off with a smirk, but holds her hand out before Uriah's finger squeezes the trigger.

"Wait—!" She says, ripping a piece off the muffin. She pops it into her mouth and gives him a thumbs up. Her cheek puffs out at she chews, making her look like a chipmunk as she grins. We hear the sound of a door open, and Uriah curses, shoving the gun behind his back. We all turn to see Zeke, Shauna, and Four walk in. Four looks over at me.

"How did I know it was you guys?" Zeke asks, shaking his head. Uriah relaxes, smirking. He turns back to Marlene and repositions himself, aiming the gun. One squeeze on the trigger and the pellet shoots out, ripping through the muffin and knocking it off Marlene's head. She didn't even flinch.

"What are you guys doing here?" Shauna questions, leaning against one of the tables, "you're lucky it was us who showed up and not Eric, or his cronies." Lynn just shrugs, Uriah shoves the gun into the waistband of his pants, and Marlene rips another piece off the muffin, the part that didn't touch the floor.

I just stare between the three of them, and stop at Four's eyes.

"Shooting a muffin off Marlene's head," Uriah answers, spinning the gun around his finger. It accidentally hits the trigger and a pellet flies through the air, just missing Zeke's face.

"Give me that," Zeke says, holding his hand out for the gun, "how the hell did you get this?"

"From your apartment," Uriah shrugs.

"It was locked."

"The magic of a female's hair pin," Uriah smirks, looking quite proud of himself. Zeke attacks him and gets him into a headlock, roughly pressing his knuckles into Uriah's head. Uriah tries to swat at his arms, but Zeke is taller, more largely built than his little brother. After a moment, he releases him and Uriah fixes his shirt.

"You guys shouldn't be back here," Four says after a moment.

"You wouldn't tell on us," Uriah says; Four nods, but we know his statement stills stands. "Besides, you're back here now. Is it not okay with you if we hang out here?"

"Why do you want to?" Shauna asks.

"Why not? We'll be at the pit later tonight, only makes sense that we stay here." Lynn answers with another shrug. Shauna sighs, shaking her head slightly.

"Well...?" She looks at Four and Zeke as she says this. Zeke doesn't look bothered by the idea, and neither does Four. Zeke cracks his knuckles and heads over to one of the bags; Shauna follows him over, trailed by Lynn and Marlene. Uriah takes the pellet gun and goes over to the targets, aiming.

Four gives me a look before he head over to the punching bags. My legs carry me after him; Four grabs a roll of tape from the table at the far ends and begins to wrap his fingers with it. It isn't until just now that I notice his knuckles are blue and purple, with a red ring around the mix. They're bruised pretty badly—how often does he come here?

I look over and see Zeke is having fun trying to show Shauna what to do, despite her telling him she knows how to fight. Lynn and Marlene are talking about something I can't quite hear, watching the two. Uriah fires off about five pellets, the only sound comes from the pellets bouncing off the target at the same force they hit at.

"How often do you come here?" I ask quietly, as Four takes the first punch. He briefly glances at me, and stabilizes the bag before hitting it again.

"Pretty often," he answers, "but usually just for fun. Zeke always likes to come down, so I go when he does." I nod, watching the muscles in his arms flex and relax with each hit. The tendons in his hands pop out as he clenches them, white-knuckled underneath the bruises. Sweat begins to gather down his neck and back; his forehead too.

"Does that hurt?" I say, pointing to his hands. He shakes them out, glancing down at the tape.

"Not really. You get used to it after a while." It looks like his hands should be numb by now, but he keeps going.

I don't understand what he finds fun about punching a bag thick mattress foam, but I bite my lip and ask, "can I try it?" Four gives me an amused look, but steps back, reaching forward to stop it from moving.

"You want to?" He asks. I nod. Four moves back so I can stand where he was, and his hands find my bare shoulders. His hands are rough, but they're gentle as they rest there for a moment, positioning me. He adds pressure, saying quietly, "let your arms relax."

I release a breath and let my shoulders drop, "Good." He says, his chin just above my ear, "now—," he grabs my arms and holds them firm in front of my chest, one above the other, "—keep them up here; don't punch with your arms punch with your weight." He's still holding my arm when he demonstrates it.

I try a few hits, feeling the sting of contact in my knuckles. I briefly look down at the skin that's turned red. He lets me try again, standing behind me and occasionally correcting my stance. His hands straighten me at the waist, adding pressure to the small of my back and my abdomen, "keep tension here. It helps." I hear him, but I don't—I focus on the way his palms, cold and tough, hold me.

I can still feel the outline of his hands as he removes them from my body, correcting my arms again. I try to focus on what he says, but I can't stop thinking about the sparks in my stomach. I make a few good hits, but after a while I back down and let him go back to it.

"Tris—!" Uriah calls, "wanna try?" He's holding the gun up, grinning. I laugh and after a moment I nod, taking one last look at Four before I leave him at the bags. Uriah hands me the gun, stepping away. I glance up at the target—it's not that far away.

Uriah gets me settled, and steps to my right, out of the way. "Ready...aim...fire!" He says; my finger squeezes the trigger and I watch as the green pellet hits the wood a few inches away from the blue. It leaves an indent in the material and then drops to the floor. "Not bad," he says, inching my arm over a little more, "now try it."

I go again, this time striking a hole through the blue; I hit the throat. I grin triumphantly, and Uriah lets me fire off a few more before Zeke, Shauna, and Four head over to the door, "people are probably filling in now. We should go," Four says, kicking the door open with his foot. He holds it with one arm as we file out of the room. I'm last—or second to last since Four walks behind me after turning the lights off and closing the door. Uriah walks at my side, pretending to aim the gun at the back of Zeke's head, smirking at me as he does it.

"Sooo," Lynn sing-songs, throwing an arm around my shoulder as the boys leave us, "what was all that about?" I know what she's talking about, the blush creeping in to my face, but I try to act dumb anyway.

"What?" I ask. Lynn rolls her eyes.

"You're a horrible liar," she says bluntly, "Four may have been showing you what to do, but that didn't look like it was the only thing happening." Marlene nods, her expression just as questioning.

"I don't know," I answer with a shrug. "He was showing me how to hit." They share a knowing, cocky look.

"His hands were all over you," Lynn states, smirking, "don't even try to lie about that." I sigh, shaking my head at them.

"O-kay... but he was showing me what to do."

"Ugh can you just be a girl for a second?" Marlene whines, shaking me by my shoulders.

"I'm always a girl," I mutter, frowning.

"Fair point, but you're not acting like a girl," Lynn says, "unless you're around Four." I look up at her, curiously.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"A girl will always act like a girl when she's around a guy she likes," Lynn answers, "simple as that." If it's so obvious, I wonder why she brings this up now.

"I'm not _that_ obvious," I mumble. "First Christina, now you two?"

"Okay, okay, fine." Lynn throws her hands up in mock surrender, "we'll get you to talk some other time, we're holding you to that." I shake my head as they wander off, and listen in on one of Uriah's stories.

XxXxX

This time, it's just Christina and I that head to the Hancock building—we're meeting with Zeke, Uriah, Shauna, and a few of their friends for zip lining.

The excitement makes the elevator ride longer.

When we get up to the ninety-ninth floor Christina and I run up the rest of the stairs to the roof; I know this view too well now—the first time I found out about my newfound eagerness for terror and danger. Zeke is strapping people into slings and sending them off one by one; Shauna gets in, with her back to the city. She's facing us, giving Zeke a thumbs up. He sends her off and I watch as she leans back in the sling, letting her arms stretch out beside her.

Zeke laughs upon hearing her scream into the air. It's chillier than it was the first night we got up here, and windier. Nobody stands by the edge of the building this time—they all watch from a safe distance. Christina goes next, jumping in the same way as Shauna.

"Glad you guys could make it," Zeke says, clicking the straps closed around her midsection, thighs, and lower back. Christina counts to three but Zeke releases her too early, and she screams on the way down, something unintelligible. "You're up stiff."

"You can't call me that anymore," I say.

"_Uriah_ can't," Zeke smirks, "I never made you any promises." Fair point, but I am technically no longer stiff material. He holds his hand out for me and I take it, stepping up onto the ledge. "How are you getting in this time?"

"Same as last time," I answer. He and Uriah lift me up so I am facing down at the streets again, waiting to be strapped in. I feel him tighten them around my waist and my thighs, before counting to three. He lets me go on two.

This time, I do scream, but not out of fear. I let out a scream of joy; my arms automatically come up at my sides, feeling the air curl around them. My body is freezing from the speed and the temperature, but sweating from the adrenaline.

I remembered to wear my hair up this time, so it wasn't in my face. My reflection doesn't change in the windows—I still look happy, too happy considering falling to my death from a thousand feet in the air is still highly possible. I don't really think about it though.

I don't close my either, not once. I don't want to forget what it's like to be flying, every smudge and blur of light, every darkened building speeding past me, the aerial view is breathtaking. If I could do this forever, I would.

I am without weight. The wind rattles the sling, and forces tears into my eyes as I pick up speed on the way down. Laughter bubbles in my chest and erupts from my gut, loud and excited. I start to see the 'X' from where I am.

The cable doesn't stretch nearly as long as I wish it would, because soon enough my fingers find the brake and I'm tugging down, coming to a stop just before I smash into the luminous 'X' and board. I drop down into the tangle of arms and hands that make up a landing net; as I get to my feet, Uriah's screams sound from a solid three hundred feet away—sounding like a strangled cat.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to see Four, flashing a crooked grin at me. Has he been down here this whole time? I didn't even see him, "how do you do this?" Four asks, shaking his head. I know what he's referring to, and I smile.

"I don't think about it," I reply, "it's like flying."

"You're looking down at the city."

"_Looking_—not falling, Four." I say, "were you waiting down here the whole time?" He nods.

"Zeke couldn't talk me in to riding that down here; he wanted me to join him and the others tonight. The only way I'd come here was if I didn't have to ride _that_—," he points at the next person coming in, "so I waited for the first person to get here."

"You're unbelievable," I sigh, "What's the name they gave you? _Legendary Four_?" I ask, he gives me an unamused look but I continue, "The _Legendary Four_...will climb a Ferris Wheel with me... throw knives at me... but he won't ride a zip line through the city?"

"This is different," He says, "there's nothing underneath me for thousands of feet."

I watch him for a moment—he keeps glancing up at the next person, eyes wide as they come soaring into view, "you'll really never try it?" I ask quietly. Four thinks about it, sighing.

"I don't think so," he says.

"It's not that bad," I try. He gives me a hard look, like I shouldn't press him on the matter. And maybe I shouldn't, but I haven't given up this fight. I got him to climb a Ferris Wheel—I will get him to go zip lining, even if it kills me.

Zeke is the last one to come down, as usual. He's howling into the air, pumping his fist the closer he gets. Four rolls his eyes beside me; Zeke makes a rude gesture at him, smirking as he climbs out of the sling. "See, nobody got hurt. Nobody's sling was left untightened," Zeke grins, clapping a hand on Four's shoulder. Four shakes him off.

"That's still not enough reassurance," Four retorts.

"Hey, if I fucked up my first time jumping into the pit and still made it in without a scratch, you can ride a zip line without falling to your death." I suppress my laughter, biting my lip.

"What happened the first time you jumped?" I ask. They turn to me, and Zeke practically grins from ear to ear.

"Well, it wasn't my most finest of moments," he starts, walking beside me as everyone begins to head back. Four is on the other side of me, "I got up onto the ledge, but I misjudged the jump and ended up falling forward straight over. I was going for a more dramatic moment there."

Four smirks, speaking up, "what was it you said on the way down...? Something like...?"

"_Holy shit!_" Zeke pretends to shout, flailing his arms out in front of him. I join in on their laughter, wiping tears from my eyes. I drop my hands back down to my side, my fingers accidentally grazing the back of Four's hand in the process. That same jolt—as though he shocked me—dances across my skin. His amused smile doesn't falter though.

I listen to the conversations around me—Zeke talking about how Uriah was almost pushed off the ledge one day. Uriah talking about shooting the muffin off Marlene's head. All the others tell stories I was never witness too, but enjoy hearing. Four speaks up a few times—I'm guessing he was there for most of these stories.

As we walk, Four's hand brushes against mine a few more times; almost like each time is intentional. I can't tell if it was me who moved closer to him, or vice versa, but we're practically walking in the same spot.

I bite my lip to hold back my smile, but I don't think it works. I steal a glance at him, meeting his eyes; a blush creeps into my cheeks and I'm thankful this part of the city is quite dark. He glances behind us, though nobody is there, and leans down so his lips are at my ear, "if I asked if I could hold your hand, would you tell me no?" The questions causes my heart rate to spike up a little. They were intentional.

I smile, letting out a small laugh, "I wouldn't say no," I reply quietly. Four smiles and his fingers slip between mine, giving my hand a light squeeze.

"So this is okay?" He asks me. I nod and we continue to follow the others, listening to stories all the way back to the pit.


	7. Afraid

**A/N: You're all gonna hate me, but I promise after this chapter I will not keep you waiting for the next two days. I will have a new update tomorrow (hopefully, I will have **_**updates**_** for **_**BMD**_**, **_**F:BMD**_**, and **_**LMG**_**).**

CHAPTER 7 – AFRAID

The next few days are better, but I don't see Four around the pit when I go with Christina, Al, and Will, or Uriah, Marlene, and Lynn. Uriah says it's because he's working in the control room with Zeke. I wonder if it has anything to do with Eric.

I go with Christina to the tattoo parlor because she has begged me for almost a week now, but I don't get a new one. The one on her arm shows through the nylon material of her sleeves, but this time she chooses to get one on the back of her neck.

While we're there, she tries to talk me in to getting a piercing—I strictly tell her no. After seeing all of the ones Eric's got, they lost their appeal completely. Too many holes.

Christina moves her hair out of the way and tries to glance in one of the mirrors, "how does it look?" She asks after a minute. It's a symbol with fire in the middle, with a the faded design like it was stenciled on with paint. But it looks good.

"It looks good," I say, watching as she grins at in in the mirror.

Christina turns to me, "you sure you don't want another one?"

"I'm sure," I say, but add, "for now." It's a weak promise, but she smiles anyway and we leave to go find Al and Will. They're watching a fight in the main area, rooting for whoever's winning at the moment. Christina rolls her eyes at them and throws her arms around Will's waist. He smiles down at her—part of me is jealous; the other part wonders what it'd be like to have someone look at me like that. My mind flickers to Four; to the other night when he held my hand.

"Who's winning so far?" She asks.

Will shakes his head, "nobody at the moment. They're both actually pretty good."

"Yeah—we're reserving our judgment until the end," Al says, smirking a little. Christina snorts, shaking her head. I turn towards the fight but I don't really watch it. I focus on Eric, who looks bored. It seems he's never pleased, despite all of these activities being set up by him. He also looks aggravated, like something is under his skin—I wonder if something happened between him and Four. It would make sense—Four's stayed away from the main area the last few days, and Eric has been extra harsh to the people he chooses.

We stay to watch all of the fights, going well into the early morning. Christina and I head back to our dorm, sneaking past the other rooms so we don't get caught—Christina searches for the key in her pocket and when she finds it, she unlocks the door and we shut ourselves into the room quickly—she thinks somebody was coming down the hall.

I change out of my clothes and in to some clothes to sleep in, pulling my hair out of its elastic, and dropping in to bed. I remember I still have make up on, but I'm too tired to get back up and wash it off.

Christina falls asleep long before me; she moves around a lot. Currently, her feet are where her head should be and I suppress my laughter.

She tosses and turns a few more times just as my eyelids begin to feel heavy, and eventually I fall asleep, allowing myself, in the darkness, to think of Four for the last time tonight.

XxXxX

The next morning, Christina and I accidentally oversleep.

We rush to get ready, skipping the cafeteria to get to class on time; we just make it—receiving a stern look from our instructor. Christina takes her seat and I get to mine, keeping my eyes down for most of the class.

Christina yawns, more than seems healthy; I wonder if her face hurts.

The class ends; we get a strict lecture at the end but eventually he just sighs and lets us go. I know it should bother me more, getting chastised—I should be more focused, but most of it I already know. Not the strongest reason to not pay attention, but at least I'm not clueless during lessons.

The next few classes go by fairly quickly, and soon enough we're at dinner. I don't grab anything, but Christina offers me some from her tray so I mostly pick and choose. She nearly chokes when Uriah—in the midst of one of his stories—makes an inappropriate gesture. I feel my face get warm, but I don't let it look like it's affected me.

Somehow, Uriah ends up moving from his spot a few times, eventually settling on my other side. He taps my shoulder, speaking low enough for only me to hear, "Four wanted me to give you a message," my heart jumps at his words, "he wants you to meet him at the net, tonight, around midnight." I nod, and he smirks a little, like he's hiding a secret but I don't ask him what it is.

The others finish up; Marlene and Lynn already headed to the pit earlier to meet up with Shauna. Uriah goes with us—me, Christina, Will, and Al. I try to join in on their conversation, but I'm eager to know why Four wants to meet with me.

We go the back way, like usual now. I stay with them for a while; when it's almost midnight, Uriah lets me know and I break away from the others—I don't know if I should mention I'm going to see Four, but they don't really notice I'm leaving.

I take the stairs up, careful not to trip up them; they're steeper than most. My legs are exhausted when I finally reach the top and when I get there, I see Four waiting by the net, looking up. My heart starts to act up; it's dark where I'm standing but the light from the moon glows down the hole and on to him. He looks pale, and tall standing there.

I clear my throat, forcing my voice to be louder than a whisper, "hey."

Four turns to face me, smiling, "hey," he says, jumping down from the platform. He meets me in the middle of the room, holding his hand out. I hesitate briefly—unfamiliar with this—and he pulls me with him toward the net again.

"What are we doing?" I ask.

"Well," Four starts, looking down at our hands, "here, Eric won't bother looking—," the question, if he's afraid of Eric, pops into my head again but I shove it away. "...And I wanted to see you." I don't know why I find it hard to believe, but I bite my lip.

"Why?" I ask quietly.

Four shrugs, and glances at the net, "want to join me?" I don't know what he means by it, but I nod and his hands find my waist, hoisting me up until I'm in the net. He climbs in next, and the net sinks down from our weight.

"What are we doing?" I ask again, watching him. He stretches out, looking almost completely casual despite the lack of comforting support.

"When I like to be alone, I come here sometimes," he answers, "nobody usually jumps down here at this time of night; it's peaceful here, and the sky is clear so you can see the stars." He glances up, and my eyes follow; he's right, and the sky is a deep blue, almost like his eyes. The stars are visible, even from all the way down here.

"So you just lay here?" He shrugs, nodding. It's not unreasonable—it _is_ peaceful. Because the net dips down so low, I notice that my knee is practically digging into the side of his thigh; he doesn't say anything about it. Hesitantly, I relax into the net, staring up like he is. I hear the sound of something being twisted open, and I realize it's him; he's opening a small flask.

He notices the way I'm watching him, and smirks slightly, "Sorry." I laugh a little, shaking my head.

"It's fine," I answer. It's not the first time I've seen him drink—I didn't think then would be the last time anyway. He tips it back, taking a swig from it. "Just don't get drunk on me," I tease. He catches on and laughs, nodding.

"I won't," he says, taking another sip. His Adam's apple bobs slightly, as he swallows and I feel my throat tighten. I swallow to try and loosen it.

"What's in there?"

"Just beer," he answers, stopping before it touches is lips again, "not one of the best; this stuff's kinda gross, but I don't mind it too much." I nod, and Four smirks then, looking at me. "You can try it if you want." I laugh, shaking my head.

"I haven't had beer before," I say. I don't even remember what kind of alcohol it was that Christina gave me; some kind of bitter drink. Maybe an ale. He holds it out to me, offering it. I'm weary, since he said it's kinda gross but the curious part of me wants to know what he means. I take it from his outstretched hand, bringing it up to my face. I can already smell it, it's a little strong; this too, smells bitter. I press the flask to my lips and take a sip, coughing a little; it stings the back of my throat as I swallow it. My face twists in disgust, and he chuckles; I laugh, handing it back to him, "that's..._gross_." He laughs a little harder, nodding.

"And now you know what beer tastes like," he jokes, taking another sip. "Nobody actually likes it—most just drink it because they can."

"And would you classify as most?" I ask. He grins, shrugging.

"Depends," Four says, "I guess it's fifty/fifty." We fall silent for a few minutes; he takes a few more sips, nursing the flask in his hands and then turns to me, "want to play a game?"

"Uh, what kind of game?"

"How about 20 questions," he suggests. "We take turns—I ask you something, and then you get to ask me something. You can only pass on one question though."

"And if we get to 20?"

He shrugs again, "start a new round?" Sitting in front of me, he looks as young as he is. He's not tense, or putting up a strong front. Here, he's at ease—it makes me feel safe around him. After a moment, I nod.

"You first," I say.

"Okay," he sits up more, shortening the gap between us, "Is Tris your real name, or a nick name?"

"Nick name." I answer. He nods, and takes a sip. "Your turn."

"Uh," of all the times I've had questions around him, my mind now draws a blank. "...favorite color?"

"Easy... blue." I resist saying 'mine too'. I don't think I could explain it's because of his eyes; that'd be embarrassing. "What's your real name?"

I left that girl behind, but a part of me wants him to know, "...Beatrice." I say, quietly. "What's _your_ real name?" His smile is almost sad, and he bites the inside of his cheek, like he's thinking of passing up the question. He's so quiet, I almost tell him never mind.

But then he speaks up, and says, "Tobias. When is your birthday?"

I almost laugh at the question; my birthday is not something I look forward to, namely because I don't care about an older age, "February sixth," I say. "Why is your nickname Four?"

"Four fears," he says easily. "What's _your_ favorite color?" My face heats up, and I press my palms to my face to cool it down.

"...blue," I answer, almost too quietly.

"What's so embarrassing about that?" He asks. "We like the same col—,"

"—Hey, it's my turn!" I say; he holds his hands up in mock surrender and lets me continue, "Sorry... um..." I see black ink curling around his neck, just above the neckline of his shirt, "what's your tattoo?"

His smile is shy, his voice low as he says, "I'll show you sometime." He watches me for a moment, his gaze is curious. His voice is unwavering as he asks, "have you ever been kissed?" My breath catches, my face heats up again—why would he ask me that?

My eyes widen, and fall to my hands playing with the net. I'm afraid my answer will be embarrassing—that I'm inadequate because he's older, and no doubt had a girlfriend before. Biting my lip out of habit, I shake my head, "No."

Four laughs then, giving my hand a soft squeeze, "you don't have to be embarrassed by that."

My heart is hammering in my chest, "w-why did you ask me that?" I allow myself to look up at him; he's watching me so intently. My mind is out of control—I try to focus on his eyes, but his thumb is rubbing circles onto the back of my hand, distracting me.

After a moment, he sighs; he stares at my chin, my lips, and then my nose before meeting my eyes again. He swallows, like he's nervous and says, quietly, "because I really want to kiss you right now." My lip is raw, from biting it; he touches my face, stroking his thumb across my cheekbone, before freeing my lip from my teeth. He asks, "would you let me?"

I don't know. I can't think straight at all—I'm terrified, my body has gone completely still but at the same time I want him too. I know I'm not drunk, I only had one sip, and my mind is trying to scream past the questions, _yes!_

I don't trust my voice; I cover his hand against my face and nod slowly. Four smiles; his eyes flicker to my lips again, briefly, and then he leans in, lightly brushing his lips against mine as if testing the waters.

I don't breathe, out of fear of shattering beneath his hand. My chest is aching from the pounding of my heart, and when he pulls back for a moment I'm sure I've done something wrong. But then he rests his hand on the back of my neck and slowly pulls me towards him; then he's kissing me completely. His lips are soft against mine—they're gentle, yet demanding, and I manage to break through my nerves, coming alive.

My arms snake around his neck, closing the gap between us. His fingers weave into the net beside my head, on both sides. The kiss is sweet, and soft, yet heavy but it ends too soon when I pull away for air. I forgot to breathe before he kissed me.

We're breathing the same air; his breaths are hot and short against my skin, I imagine mine are the same. "Four—,"

"You can call me Tobias," he says softly, resting his forehead against mine, "it's nice to hear my name again." My nerves spike up again; I feel trapped beneath him but try not to freak out.

"Can I sit up?" I ask, trying to keep my voice even. Tobias nods and sits up, pulling me with him. He notices, when I close my eyes, that I'm trying to even out my breathing.

"Are you alright?" He asks, lifting my chin up.

"I'm fine," I say, clearing my throat. "...but I need to go." His hand falls from my face and I climb to the edge of the net. I don't look back—I can't. I wanted him to kiss me, but I can't stop the voices arguing between right and wrong in my head. I try to walk normally, but my feet carry me out of the room and back through the main area; I walk past my friends and leave the compound all together.

I don't go back to the school, or the fairgrounds. I just walk through the darken city, letting myself cry for being so stupid. I'm stupid for just leaving him back there, when I wanted him to kiss me. I'm stupid for being so selfish—for not being able to handle a stupid kiss.

I sit on a bench, curling my legs up and wrapping my arms around my head, sobbing quietly. I don't know what to do—he'll probably never talk to me again, and I don't even know exactly why I'm so afraid.


	8. Decision

**A/N: I'm sorry this is up late tonight! I had a cold starting on Tuesday and so today it hit me full force. I might have new updates for the other two stories tomorrow, however, I cannot guarantee anything! I wish I could have been more up to writing them today! As always, thank you for your patience and also your kind reviews!**

CHAPTER 8 - DECISION

I don't know how long I sit there. Maybe twenty minutes, maybe an hour. I stand up, about to head in the direction of the school but something pulls me toward the pier, and the fairgrounds.

I pull my hood up over my head, keeping my eyes low and hands tucked deeply into my pockets.

I imagine my face is probably puffy, and blotchy, and red from all of my crying. Most of my eyeliner is on the back of my hands, while my mascara burns my eyes.

I think I've cried myself out; I lift a shoulder to dry the rest of my face on my sleeve and breathe in and out through my nose. I let him hold my hand. I played a game with him and he shared beer with me... I don't understand why the hell I couldn't just let him kiss me and enjoy it!

I'm half-tempted to smack myself across the face.

It's hard to see where I'm going. The streets are pretty dark, harboring buildings's shadows. My nose is stuffed up from all of my crying, forcing me to have to breathe through my mouth. It sounds louder this way.

The pier isn't far; I can just see the Ferris Wheel from where I'm standing, and my heart aches for a moment. I don't know why I thought walking to the pier was a good idea.

I don't stop though. I play tonight's events over in my mind as I get closer.

Why did I run away after telling him yes? _Because you wanted to kiss him, too_.

He probably hates me. _I don't blame him_.

I can't stay away, I have to talk to him. _Unless you want to drive yourself crazy again_.

He's probably back at his apartment. _Too bad you can't go back there_.

I reach the pier and walk down the street, by the water. Boats sit in a line, in tall, dark silhouettes on the water; most of the lights come from around the Ferris Wheel. This side isn't very lit, but it's enough for me to just see myself in the water.

I sigh, sitting down with my feet dangling over the edge; they don't quite reach the water. I think about leaving my hood up, but it's not as cold or windy tonight so I toss it back and press my hair down.

There's a small breeze that dances across my face. There are still wet streaks trailing down, under my chin and I furiously wipe at them. I don't want to go back to the dorm, or even the pit, looking like I've been crying.

I haven't decided where I'll go yet.

"I told him yes," I whisper to myself, chewing on my lip. Talking out loud seems like it should help, but it doesn't. Not really. "And then ran away...god, I'm such an idiot!"

I shake my head at myself, staring down at my hands. If I could just figure out why I got scared, maybe I could overcome it.

I /wanted/ him to kiss me; I can't be afraid of him, that doesn't make sense. But he makes me feel vulnerable, and I can't afford that. I don't feel in control when he's around me.

I shouldn't have run away from him, not when he told me his real name. Not when he kissed me - his lips were soft. Just thinking about it, I can still feel the tingle his lips left behind on mine.

He wanted to spend time with me, and he put me up in the net with him because it was where he finds peace when he wants to be alone. The more I think of how badly I've screwed up, the worse I feel.

"One of us is gonna have to find a new place to run to," I jump at the sound of his voice; I try to swallow my heart back down and turn to face him.

Tobias stands only a few feet away, with his hands deep down in his pockets and the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up. He looks at me briefly, then at the ground.

I look over him then; he changed his clothes. He has sneakers on, and sweatpants. Did he go for a run? I didn't even hear him.

"Probably me," I say, trying to sound confident. I stand up, brushing the dirt off my hands and clothes. I don't like this silence, it's not as comfortable as other times. "I mean, you know...since you've known this area longer." My voice gets lower and the I stop, because I know I'm rambling. He looks like he's about to say something, but then he shuts his mouth and I see his hands shake, anxiously, in his pockets. So I speak up, "I'm sorry..." I say, quietly, "I know you've heard that from me a lot already-,"

Tobias nods, "I have," he says, tersely.

"...right," I sigh, scratching the back of my neck to give my hands something to do other than shake nervously. I clear my throat, "I didn't...you're angry with me..." He shakes his head.

"I'm not angry with you, Tris," he sighs, biting the inside of his cheek. I know he's lying, but I hold back my comment, "I'm just confused. I don't understand what happened..."

I shrug, uncomfortably, and say, "I don't either."

"I have a few questions," Tobias says, "I'm hoping you can answer them for me." It's the least I can do for him, so I nod, "did you even want me to kiss you?" The guilt hits me hard. I should have known he'd jump to that conclusion; that I just said yes, because I thought it was the right thing to do.

I nod slowly, "I did." He nods once; I can't tell if he believes me or not, but my answer seems satisfactory at least. I decide to test it, and walk a little closer. "I did want you to."

I see his expression soften a little as I stop just in front of him but the hard set of his jaw tells me he hasn't completely forgiven me. I'm terrified of the feelings he gives me, even now, and I don't think I can hurt him again. I walked away once when he opened up, I don't want to lose that now.

My heart is beating erratically; I want to make this right. But I'm afraid that I'm already giving him mixed signals. I don't know what I want, because I've never done this before. I've never been interested in boys - not really. And I've never had the boy I liked, liking me back.

"So why did you run away?"

"I don't know," I answer, defeated. My shoulders feel heavy, like the weight could crush me at any moment. "I'm afraid... I mean, I guess I just don't know what I'm doing." I lower my eyes to my feet.

Hesitantly, he reaches for my hand, and I let him. He curls his fingers around mine, giving them a small squeeze. I look up at our joined hands, smiling a little. I see him shift from the corner of my eye, and he steps a little closer to me. My heart skips a beat as I feel his breath on the side of my face.

"And are you afraid of me?" He asks me this so quietly, I almost don't hear him. But his lips are at my ear; his voice shakes, and I can tell he's just as nervous as me now. We both anticipate my answer. Am I afraid of him? I don't believe so, but then again we haven't had the greatest history so far. From the knife throwing, to me staying away...all of it namely being my fault because I can't make up my damn mind. I look up at him, biting my lip.

"Yes," I finally say, watching his face grow pained, "...and no." He cocks an eyebrow at me, giving me a curious look. I realize now, with him here that I'm afraid of him because of how he makes me feel. By how he looks at me sometimes, like I'm something good. I'm afraid of him because I make myself vulnerable for him; I want to tell him things that I would normally keep to myself. I want to share myself with him and I'm afraid of that kind of trust. But I'm also afraid that he only wants to be with me for different reasons.

And I'm not afraid of him because he's opened up with me. He's made me feel different, like I'm strong but could still use guidance.

"Should I know what that means?" Tobias says. "Or should I just trust what you're saying?"

"The latter would be a lot easier," I answer, "but of course you wouldn't know what I mean; I'm not making much sense," I mumble, looking back down at our hands. "I want to give you a chance, I just can't promise that I won't get scared by things..." He didn't even let go when I told him yes. But then he kisses my cheek, letting his lips linger on my skin for a moment. "What was that for?"

He shrugs, "I'll trust it. But you have to do me a favor."

"What kind of favor?" I ask.

"If you want to give this a chance," he smiles a little, "you have to tell me when something is wrong." I'm dumbfounded; he still wants to give me - us - a chance, despite my stupidity.

"You mean like... I set the pace?" Tobias nods slowly, watching me. There's a new fear in my mind; I'm afraid of hurting him. I'm afraid that he'll get bored with me, because if I'm setting the pace I'll have no idea what to do. I was hoping I would feel better, but a question still lurks in my mind, "can I ask you something?"

"Of course," he answers.

"Why me?" I ask, almost too quietly. He frowns slightly, pouting.

"What do you mean?"

I feel the guilt rising in my chest just thinking it, "I just feel like...we have different reasons," I say, looking at my shoes. I hear Tobias sigh, and I muster up the courage to glance up at him, carefully.

He doesn't look angry like he did before, but he doesn't look too pleased either. It didn't take him long to piece together, "You think all I'll want from you is sex?"

I feel bad about it, but I nod.

"Why do you think that?"

I'm at a loss for a real explanation; I should have just bit my tongue, but if I'm going to try I don't want this thought constantly in the back of my mind. I frown and say, "I mean, why else would a nineteen-year-old guy, who could have any girl he wants, choose an inexperienced-with-all-things-related-dating seventeen-year-old girl like me?"

He shakes his head and grips my chin between his forefinger and thumb, forcing me to look at him, "Because that nineteen-year-old guy is just as inexperienced as she is," Tobias says, "but he's trying." I'm about to protest, but his words register in my mind and I freeze. I can't think of anything to say in return; I can't think straight, period. Not while he's staring at me like he's expecting me to say something.

I face gets warm as the words sink in. I'm nothing extraordinary; he's exceptional. He's tall, and handsome, and heartbreakingly sweet at times despite not being the nicest person I've ever met, whereas I'm short, and ordinary, and cynical more often than not. But yet, he doesn't look at me like I'm ordinary; even now. He hasn't treated me like anything less than equal, either.

But I've pissed him off more times since I've met him; why would he even go through the trouble?

"I don't know what to say," I answer, dropping my gaze to the ground so he can't see me blushing.

"Do you want this?" Tobias asks slowly, "because I need to know. The truth, please. If not, I'll walk away. Because I can't do this, if you won't trust me." My heart sinks in my chest. I don't want him to doubt me, but I know it's my fault. My head is screaming 'I don't know!' While my heart is saying 'go for it!'

I nod, "I do want this." I do. I do! I want to be with him. "But I don't want to set the pace; I want it to be up to both of us." I won't be able to make it work if he leaves everything up to me. He nods after a moment, and we're quiet again.

Tobias rocks on his heels and looks around the pier, then at me, "so...can I kiss you?" He looks so innocent when he asks me, that I automatically smile. I love that he asks me, because it's sweet. I trust my decision this time, and nod.

He tilts my chin up, watching me as he leans down; I don't clamp up this time, or forget to breathe, though it's still a task when he's close. My eyes flutter closed just as his lips touch mine and energy buzzes through me as I step closer to him, closing the gap between us.

His fingers wrap around my shoulders and mine grip his wrists so they stop shaking. I can't think straight, and for once it's nice to have a loud mind - because all I can focus on are his lips.

This time he pulls away, but not before he pecks my lips. His hands find mine, and he presses our palms together, "what about the others?" I ask then, "can we tell them?"

"Zeke already knows," Tobias says, a little defeated.

"I'm just wondering," I say, "because I don't want to tell them if you don't want me to."

"Why do you say that?"

I shrug; I don't want to ruin this moment. I bite my lip, anxiously, and say, "well, you're always boarded up when Eric's around. I feel like _this_ wouldn't be different." Tobias sighs.

"Well, _this_ is," he answers, "and I'm finding that I don't care what Eric thinks. I want to be able to hold your hand without worrying that he'll see. So I don't care if they know." I nod, smiling a little.

"So, what? Does this make you my boyfriend?" The word sounds foreign coming out of my mouth; I almost want to take it back but Tobias smirks.

"Do you want me to be your _boyfriend_?" He asks. I laugh, and nod.

"Yeah," I answer, "I do." This is the second time he's used the word _boyfriend_ in a question; the first, being when I first met him trying to escape from Al.

He walks me back to the school, telling me about most of his school days on the way; how he and Zeke would always sneak out of their dorm, and end up getting caught on the nights Zeke was beyond drunk.

He mentions the double dates Zeke would drag him on, and how he'd somehow accidentally offend the girl he was with. I may have laughed a little too hard when he said it, but he just laughed with me.

He checks his watch when he reach the school and sighs, "what is it?" I ask.

Tobias shakes his head, "nothing I have to worry about. But you...it's already two am."

"Oh," is all I say. I'm just hoping Christina has already gotten back, much earlier, to wake me up in about four hours. "Well, I should probably go." He nods, but he doesn't release my hand at first.

He leans down, pressing his lips to my forehead, softly. I want to tilt my head up, so he can kiss me again but I don't know if I'll have the strength to pull away; this is safe, at least, "good night."

"'night," I say. I open the doors, as quietly as possible, and turn back to see he's already jogging off. I smile, to myself, and head upstairs to my dorm for the rest of the night.


	9. Jump

CHAPTER 9 – JUMP

The next morning, every time I try to push the smile from my face it fights its way back. I am giddy and light—I'm not used to feeling this way, and despite the nerves in my stomach, they are not gut-deep.

"What is up with you this morning?" Christina grumbles, groggily. She pulls the hairbrush through her short, wet and tangled hair, wincing when it catches. I have to turn away from her when she asks me this; I press my hands to my cheeks to stop them from burning.

Keeping in mind, I'm only running on four hours of sleep.

"What time did you get back?" She asks. I shrug.

"Uh, two?" I answer. Christina catches on, then, and a huge grin breaks out across her face.

"Were you with Four?" I sigh; I knew I wouldn't be able to keep it from her. "Oh my god, you were!" She shakes me by my shoulders, bad mood forgotten.

"I was," I say, blushing. Christina laughs.

"You can be a girl!" I scowl.

"I am _always_ a girl!" I cry, dropping my shoulders a little defeated, "why do you, Marlene, and Lynn say that like I'm not?" Christina just throws her arm across my shoulders, singing practically at the top of her lungs about me and Four; I slap my hand over her mouth as we walk down the hallway to the bathrooms.

It doesn't stop her from grabbing Lynn by the shoulders and yelling it, upon making sure it's only us in the bathroom. Then Lynn and Marlene join in, teasing me as well.

Instead of trying to fight them, I sigh and shake my head, but allow myself to laugh with them because I know it's fruitless to try and stop them. Three against one; if I can't beat them, might as well join them.

XxXxX

I am determined to get to breakfast.

However, Christina is determined to get me into a tighter shirt.

She finds about seven different shirts, just about throwing them at my head. "Why do I have to wear these now?" I ask, lifting the shirt I had on, originally, over my head. "I'm not gonna see him until later." And even then, wearing a shirt that shows just how pin straight I am isn't exactly what I want him to see me in.

"Humor me, at least." Christina pleads, crossing her arms over her chest. I roll my eyes, but decide I have nothing to lose; I put the first shirt on, and bumps rise alone my arms. I can't tell if I'm cold from the lack of sleeves, or if I'm embarrassed by the same factor.

"Definitely not," I say, shaking my head. The bones in my shoulders stick out too far for my liking; I turn away from the mirror, glancing down at the shirt. The neck is too low, just barely covering the top of my chest, "are you sure this even fits me?"

"It fits you, trust me," Christina replies, "you're just not in the right mindset, wearing it."

"I can see why," I mutter, pulling it over my head like mine. She hands me the next one; this one is a little better. It's not as tight as the last one, but it fits like a muscle shirt. Single, leather grey stripes run down the sides, while the black material over the rest of the shirt feels like a nylon. The only problem is that my bra shows through it. "I would need a tank top under this."

"No! Why?" Christina asks, incredulously, "that shirt looks good on you. Besides, you're supposed to wear it that way." Great. But another problem: I don't ooze the sex appeal to wear this shirt unless another resided beneath, or above it.

"Don't you have anything normal?" I shiver, standing in the middle of the chilled room without a shirt on. Christina foregoes a few of the shirts on her bed and hands me a solid black shirt, with the sleeves made of a similar nylon material.

I put the shirt on, instantly admiring the way it clings to my body; it actually doesn't make me look pin straight. I can see the skin of my arms through the sleeves, but the material is warm. Christina hums in approval, nodding. "It looks good on you. But, I am taking you shopping so we can get you more clothes." I roll my eyes, but I don't argue with her.

By the time we get down to the cafeteria for breakfast, we only have about twenty minutes before class starts. I'm not surprised when we get to the table, and I'm bombarded by questions from Lynn and Marlene; and eventually Christina.

"Did he kiss you?" Christina asks; my face heats up, and I nod slowly, biting my lip to contain my smile.

"Oh my god!" Lynn smirks, shaking her head, "and to think, you tried deflecting us when we told you he liked you..."

"Are you really gonna 'I told you so' me?" I ask. Lynn nods.

"Is he a good kisser?" Marlene asks quietly, leaning across the table towards me. I'm surprised my head hasn't popped, or burst into flames.

"Can't I keep some details to myself?"

"Fine, fine," they sit up straighter, in mock surrender, and turn back to their food, "for now," Lynn adds on.

XxXxX

I have been weary of affection for as long as I can remember; but I don't realize how deep that weariness runs until my heart pounds in my chest at the thought that I will see Tobias in only a short amount of time.

Christina shoots me a knowing look; I wish she wouldn't look at me like that.

I shake my hands out, relieving some of the tension from my body. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans, basically just fidgeting to fidget as if it'll get rid of my nerves. It was easier when I assumed his feelings weren't the same—I always thought it would be easier when the other person knew.

But when they're just as anxious as you, presumably, that's not always the case.

"Wanna jump?" Christina jokes; I give her a hard look and she laughs. With how nervous I am, I don't need the added adrenaline. My heart is already in my throat, it wouldn't do me any good to add my stomach. "Wow. I have never seen you this nervous, and / or excited. Are you okay?"

"I don't know." I shake my head. Christina grabs my shoulders, shaking me until colors cloud my vision. I appreciate her trying to rid of me my anxiety.

"Feel better?"

"Sort of," I shrug.

"You are gonna see Four, and you are going to have fun," she orders. She gives my arms a tight squeeze and then smiles. "You can do this, Tris." I nod, but I don't think my stomach gets the message.

"If I tell you the story of what happened when I met Will, do you think you'll calm down a little?" She asks, staring me in the eyes.

"You can try it," I answer weakly.

"Okay. He and I constantly bickered all through our freshmen year, and then one day our sophomore class had a field trip; we had to wait at the train station. Will, being the smarty pants he tends to be, was leaning quite closely towards the tracks to see something because he wanted to know what it was. I didn't know he had feelings for me; I never really thought I had any for him other than, _supposed_, mutual dislike." She shrugs, and I feel myself starting to lose the tension, "well, he almost fell down onto the tracks. I reached out to grab him, and it turned out he was only faking it. He pulled me against him and kissed me, and he didn't even taunt me for my concerned reaction."

I smile, picturing in my mind what that moment must have been like. To see someone as your total opposite, and then suddenly your equal. Will deserves a round of applause.

"Better?"

I think so. I nod, shaking my hands out one last time, and smile wider, "much."

We get inside, Christina and I, and we spot Zeke, Uriah, and Tobias by the control room door; Tobias's eyes flicker to mine and he smiles at me; my lips curl up at their own volition. My face heats up when I notice that the others are watching us—still, Tobias holds his hand out for me, and I slip my fingers between his.

His hands are not particularly soft, or too rough. His fingers are long and narrow, but they give mine just the right amount of pressure. Mine feel too warm, but he doesn't seem bothered by it.

"Believe me now?" Tobias smirks. Uriah points to Zeke.

"He didn't believe you," Uriah says, "I did."

"It's not that I didn't," Zeke retorts, rolling his eyes, "I'm just saying, you're not exactly nice and she might be a goddess for having the ability to put up with you."

I find it easier to joke, and say, "You're already talking about me?" Tobias grins, pulling me closer to him.

"Well, as much as I'd love to stay," Zeke starts, motioning between us, "I have to watch the cameras... otherwise, I have to face your wrath again."

"I didn't yell at you," Tobias sighs, "but the lost footage wasn't my fault."

"It wasn't mine either."

"Lost footage?" I ask.

Zeke shakes his head, "different story, for a different time." He turns to open the door, and starts up the stairs; Uriah waves goodbye and follows Christina down the hall toward the main area. Part of me is thankful we're alone, but the other part is still scared out of her mind.

"You can go with them if you want," he says softly, "I'm not forcing you to stay here with me."

I give him a look, "don't do that." I scowl. I evaluate my wants and fears, before telling him, "I want to spend time with you." Tobias smiles, touching his palm to my face.

"I just don't want you to think you have to stay with me." I nod, because I understand him. I really do, but I don't want to be afraid of him. I want this to get easier, even if I'm the only one who needs the reassurance.

"I want too." I say, firmer.

"We can go to my apartment if you want peace and quiet," he offers. My stomach twists. I have to force myself to breathe evenly; he said so last night, that his intentions were not solely based around sex. And I trust him on that, I just don't trust myself. "Or we can go out there."

"No," I say, "your apartment sounds fine."

"Fine?" He asks. Tobias smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes like it usually does; he sighs, never looking away from my eyes, "you can talk to me about anything, you know. If going to my apartment bothers you—,"

"—just trust me," I say quietly. "Let's go."

My stomach gets heavier the closer we get, but I need to do this. He glances back, weighing my reactions, but he doesn't say anything until we get inside.

"Do you want something to drink?" He kicks his shoes off by the door, suddenly seeming an inch shorter. My throat is dry; I nod.

"Water's fine, thank you," I reply. His apartment is still the same from the last time I was here. I notice, though, this time, all of the paint and graffiti on the wall opposite the kitchen. Some words I can make out, but others are lost under the layers of new colors. "did you do that?" I ask, pointing towards the wall.

Tobias looks up, and comes up beside me. He briefly glances at the wall, and hands me a cold water bottle; he shakes his head, smirking a little, "No. People before me did. I just don't cover it up or go over it." It's an admirable, but loud addition making it stand out from the other plain walls. I don't know how I missed it last time.

He touches my cheek again, running his thumb over my bottom lip that's wedged between my teeth, "are you okay?" Then he adds, "honestly." I sigh, and manage a nod.

"I am, really," I say. He looks somewhat convinced, but doesn't press me on it.

Tobias laces his fingers with mine then. He kisses my forehead, lingering there for a moment, before he kisses the tip of my nose, and then my lips. I don't know how, but kissing him comes as a second nature like it's not the third time we've done this. His lips fit perfectly against mine, and electricity surges through my body.

His hands move to my shoulders, almost hovering like he's unsure if he can touch me.

When he pulls back, he looks down at the tattoo on my collarbone; it's more prominent now because of the shirt I'm wearing. He smiles, "I never did get to see it that well." A small laugh bursts from my chest, and I find the courage to slide a hand up his neck, into his hair. He's serious now—just like that, "I was serious before though, Tris. You can talk to me about anything."

"I know," I reply, "I just can't think of anything...at the moment." Though, of course I'm lying. The elephant in the room is pink, practically with a neon sign saying 'I'm right here!' I sigh, looking down at the skin over his collarbones. "That's not true..."

He doesn't sound irritated, or impatient; he sounds amused, "I figured as much." We're quiet; I count each rise and fall of his chest. But he presses his lips to my cheek, and says slowly, "what's wrong? Do you still think all of this is about...me just wanting sex from you?" My skin crawls at his question; but the answer is no.

"No," I say softly, "I don't still think that. I'm only afraid of what I want." I see his breathing pick up before I hear it.

"What do you want?" He asks, "me?" My throat tightens; I'm unable to speak so I just nod. I want to be truthful with him—if admitting to myself first, and then him, that he is what I want, would it get easier to do this? I'm taking a leap here—a gigantic one—maybe even a jump.

His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me against him into a gentle hug. I can feel his heart beating against my cheek, and I smile a little. I make him nervous, too.

"Someday, if you still want me," Tobias says, kissing the top of my head, "we can." And it's all I need to hear from him right now. My arms wind around his neck and I pull myself up on my toes to kiss him. He hums against my lips, quietly, grasping my chin between his fingers.

XxXxX

I found myself laughing with the ache of it in my stomach.

I had been on the countertop, while Tobias's palms rested on either side of my legs. Even sitting, a good three feet up, he still towered over me. We had continued our game of twenty questions, but he kept kissing me after each question that I just gave in.

So we wasted time, with my arms around his neck and his hands on my waist, and his lips against mine. It all feels natural with him—I feel more at ease, despite the overwhelming thoughts of affection, and intimacy that try to cloud my mind.

I can't tell if it's because we're secluded in our own little world, here in his apartment, that I can make myself let go of fear, or if it's just having him next to me. My ultimate weakness, albeit my ultimate strength

At some point, we made our way over to his bed, just lying there, talking and kissing. I will myself to believe that it will not go any further; and it doesn't, because Tobias doesn't attempt anything more than resting his hand on my waist, or kissing my jaw.

In my head, I thank him a million times.

I steal glances at his watch; not because I want to leave, but because when we're quiet the ticking is all I can hear. It's just past midnight—it's now Saturday, and I have nowhere else I'd rather be.

Tobias's fingers draw oblong circles between my shoulder blades, his lips rest on the crown on my head, and my legs are tangled with his. We're a disheveled heap of limbs, but I've never been more comfortable.

My eyelids are heavy, my limbs are relaxed, and sleep is quickly ebbing away at my consciousness. Tobias lightly nudges me shoulder, provoking something between a moan and a sleepy hum from my throat, "Tris, you're falling asleep." He sounds amused.

"So?" I ask, tilting my chin up to readjust my head on his shoulder. Tobias chuckles, kissing my temple.

"I'm still here," he says, quietly, "I can take the floor." I weakly pull myself up into a sitting position and brush my hair out of my eyes. I'm really tired, but I don't think I can make it back to the dorm without falling asleep on the way there.

My heart rate spikes up as I weigh my options.

"I can't kick you out of your own bed," I say, yawning.

"It's not kicking me out if I offered, Tris."

"Still..." I try to protest, but I don't come up with anything. He smirks, pecking my lips.

"How about I walk you back then?" I feel the corners of my lips tug up, and I nod. He stands up from the bed and holds his hand out for me, helping me to my feet. The whole way back, we walk hand in hand and we talk about nothing in particular to keep me awake.

I think I can do this, me and him.


	10. Trust

CHAPTER 10 – TRUST

I'm shaken awake by Christina the next morning.

Her eyes are bright, excited and her face is practically red from holding in whatever she wants to tell me. "What is it?" I ask, propping myself up. I'm still only half awake when she lets out a loud, ecstatic wail. I have to cover my ears, that are now ringing.

Christina grabs my shoulders, watching me with a suddenly-stern expression, "promise you won't get all weird on me." I give her a hard look, and she smirks, shaking her head, "okay, whatever. Will and I finally did it. Last night."

I feel my jaw drop on its own accord, and Christina just laughs. "Oh my god," she just nods, practically bouncing. I feel like I should be looking at her differently, but I don't; she's still Christina, still my best friend. I feel a smile growing on my face, and we start laughing, "Oh my god, Chris!"

Christina smirks at me, "you are such a girl—I love it!" I ignore the comment, suddenly feeling my face grow warm. I don't know much about sex; I know the basics.

"Well..." I hesitate, "what was it like?" She heaves a large sigh, but the smile never leaves her face.

"I don't even know how to explain it, honestly," she answers, "it was...amazing. I feel like a new woman." She laughs at her own explanation, and I join her, shaking my head.

"Where did you guys go?"

"We found an empty dorm," Christina says, blushing, "it was in one of the secluded hallways, so we didn't have to worry about getting caught, or anything."

"Was it... weird...at all?" I ask. She shrugs.

"I mean, a little," she says, "you know, before. But afterwards...it wasn't, not really." She grins again, covering her face with her hands, "it just felt right...the timing, him...me..."

Then she hugs me, shaking me violently again; I've never seen her this happy, but I'm glad that Will is the guy for her, "I'm happy for you guys," I say, wrapping my arms around her. Despite my lack of knowledge on the topic, she still tells me all of the details.

It's Saturday morning, no classes, but we get up for breakfast. Christina launches herself off my bed, hurrying to get dressed; I know I will have to, so I throw the blanket off of my legs and stand up, grabbing clothes on my way to the showers.

Will and Christina don't join us for breakfast—they sit by themselves, and I can't help but smile when I glance over at them. They make it look so at ease.

I think about Tobias. If we were to ever get that far, would it be that easy? I guess I wouldn't know—I couldn't know... not yet, anyways.

For most of breakfast, I listen to Marlene and Lynn talking about people whose names I don't care to remember. Uriah sits beside me, scarfing down food like it's nothing. His eating habits are insane—I laugh.

"How do you eat like that?" I ask, staring at my tray of nearly untouched food.

"How do _you_..._not _eat like that?" Uriah retorts, grinning. I laugh, and scoop a spoonful of eggs into my mouth to humor him; he nudges my shoulder, as if to jokingly say 'good job'. He hasn't teased me about Tobias—which makes me either greatly relieved or greatly concerned about his mental state. He's always teasing me.

I bite my lip, and quietly ask, "have you seen _To_—Four today?" Uriah nods, taking his time to chew and then swallow his food before answering me.

"Yeah, he and Shauna went for a run this morning, and I think they're meeting Zeke in the training room later," he answers, glancing over at me, "I can bring you with me if you want. I'm heading there pretty soon." I feel a blush creep into my skin; I want to see him. Uriah laughs, shaking his head at me, "I wasn't gonna withhold my comments, but you make it too easy."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I ask, jabbing his ribs with my elbow. He just grins, rubbing what will be a bruise later.

"You asked me if I'd seen Four today," he answers, "and you're blushing, even though I didn't make a joke. That's what I mean." I just roll my eyes at him.

XxXxX

Uriah and I head to the pit, taking the entrance to the tattoo parlor. Tori spots us, and briefly waves but returns to the new design she's sketching out. I keep thinking about getting a new one, but I don't know what it would be; Christina has my head filled with the idea.

We sneak down one of the back corridors; lonely, and removed—hardly anyone goes down here, from what I can tell, and what I've heard. Obviously, it's one of Tobias's favorite places to be. We get closer to the doorway at the end, and we hear voices inside; I hear Tobias laugh, loud and genuine and I smile, instantly.

Uriah throws the door open, most likely in hopes of scaring them, but scowls when they just turn to look at us, shaking their heads, "damn, that was a bust," he sulks, kicking at the concrete like a disappointed child. I lightly touch his arm, as if it'll console him and then turn to the others.

"What are you guys doing here?" Shauna asks. I see Uriah grin then, mischievously, and he peers over at me for a moment—this can't be good. I brace myself.

"She wanted to see Four," I was right. I punch him in the arm, ignoring the pain in my knuckles at the contact—my face heats up, and I drop my eyes to the ground as I hear the others snickering, quietly.

An arm snakes around my waist then, and Tobias pulls me into his side. I lean against him, wishing—pleading with myself to stop blushing. He touches his lips to the top of my head, just standing there with me. "You don't have to be embarrassed," he says quietly.

I look up at him, meeting his eyes and nod.

"I know," I smile a little, "I_ knew_ that was coming... I just can't help it."

Tobias smirks, "so you really wanted to see me?"

"I came to punch some bags," I joke; he feigns a hurt expression, and I laugh, pushing him lightly. His other arm wraps around me then—I can feel the others staring at us, and I rest my hands against my face, cooling my skin down.

Yet I don't feel smothered, like I expected to.

Zeke and Uriah head over to the mats, about to start a match while Shauna watches, counting down until she says 'go!' Tobias watches them, and I turn to him; he looks at me.

I feel a little awkward asking, but he's told me I can tell him anything; that I shouldn't be embarrassed. And I know I shouldn't be, but my teeth dig into my lip anyway as I say, "can we go somewhere?" I don't mind being here, but I want to be alone with him for a while.

Tobias nods, and we begin to head for the door; the others are too preoccupied with the fight to really notice, but Shauna waves at us before we leave. Tobias still holds me against his side when we get out of the room.

He's strong; he's warm.

"I really did come to see you," I say, watching him. The corner of his mouth twitches into a smile, and he glances down at me.

"I'm glad you did," he replies, fitting his hand against the small of my back. I focus on the feel of his hand resting so casually on me; even through the fabric, it feels like he's burning me with sparks.

We walk down more deserted corridors—I glance around, looking down different hallways as we pass them. "Where are we going?" I ask; this is a different way from any of the ones I remember.

"It's a place I like to go sometimes; Zeke found it."

I grin, "just how many hiding places do you have?" Tobias smirks, shrugging.

"Tons," he answers after a moment, "you may never get to see them all."

"What if you're ever missing?" I don't like the idea, but I joke anyway, "wouldn't you want someone to know these places? Maybe find you?"

"But see that's the beauty about _good_ hiding places," Tobias says, "nobody ever finds them." I get a sense there's a double meaning to his answer—he sounds almost longing. I don't ask him about it, though I want to know.

The closer we get to where we're going, I hear the sound of rushing water. The corridor gets darker, narrower, the farther we head down. This place is amazing.

"Don't tell me there's...a _waterfall_ here, too." I say, straining my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Tobias laughs.

"Something like that," I hear the suppressed humor in his voice, and I shake my head. I honestly wonder if there's even a map for this compound, or if it's just so big nobody bothered to draw one.

It's much darker here; I can just make out Tobias's outline. There's a gap in the wall, but it's too dark to actually see it unless you're looking for it. Wide enough for a person. Tobias slips through it, pulling me with him.

And then we're in a completely different area. He holds his arms out proudly, his teeth glistening, despite the darkness, tell me he's smiling, "welcome to the chasm." Indeed. I hear the water, roaring in my ears now. Tobias holds my hand, still, guiding me down the rocky path.

He stops shortly after, and he places my hand on a cold, metal railing. And then he switches a lamp light on, bright enough to light up a good portion of the chasm around us. "This is amazing!"

Tobias sits down, dangling his legs over the edge. The bottom of his jeans are soaked in seconds, by all of the waves. I sink to ground beside him, brushing the dirt off my hands. I drop them to my lap, and just sit there, feeling the water splash over my ankles.

"How did he find this place?" I ask; I have to raise my voice over the sound of the water, and when I do it echoes. I look over at him; he rests his head against the railing, staring at me with an easy smile on his face. I feel my face heat up, but I don't try to look away.

"A fortunate moment of serendipity," he answers, "every year, when the weather gets nicer, everyone around here participates in this huge paintball war." That would explain the paint everywhere; either intact, or chipping. "It happens in the compound, outside the compound... anyway, it was the year Zeke was made one of the captains. Shauna and I were on his team, so we were trying to find Eric's team. Eric ended up finding _us_, but the people on his team couldn't aim if their lives depended on it—," he smirks, looking past me; almost like he's watching that day play out again, and maybe he is.

I hear those questions again, in my mind. The ones that want to know what made his life at home so horrible, that this compound became his solace.

"—we ended up losing them down the hallway, back there," he points, "but we didn't think just waiting for something to happen, to get caught, would be smart. So Zeke basically scaled the wall and found the opening. You can see the chasm from different places, but this is the only real, less harmful way, of getting close to the bottom." I nod, slowly, for a moment.

"It's nice down here," I say, glancing down at where our reflections would be if the water were still. I feel bumps rise on my skin, and I shiver, "and just a little cold." Tobias laughs, nodding.

"Yeah, sometimes it can get pretty bad," he says, "especially in the winter."

"I take it you still come down here?"

"Sometimes," he answers, then he grins, "Zeke'll usually bring something to drink. You warm right up." This time I laugh, shaking my head. He doesn't look like much of a drinker—I've only seen him drink twice. But when he does, he looks younger; he looks more relaxed.

But I don't forget he's nineteen; and I'm seventeen. I scowl, slightly.

"What's wrong?" He asks. I shake my head. I don't want to tell him—I don't want to ruin this, but I want to be honest.

I sigh. "I overthink things, sometimes," I say lightly.

He doesn't look surprised; he straightens up against the railing and asks, "What are you overthinking?"

"I'm younger than you..." I reply. I watch him frown at me, and I shake my head, "I don't still think..._that_." I say quickly, "...I guess I just don't understand what makes me different."

"Is it really that hard to believe somebody likes you?" He asks, carefully, "regardless of age... et cetera."

"You'd be the first," I answer.

"That's not exactly true." I raise my eyebrows at him, confused. He gives me a look like it should be obvious, "your guy _friend_?" I had almost forgotten about Al. I sigh.

"Okay, fine. You'd be the second person to," I say, disconsolately. He moves closer to me, sitting so close that his leg touches mine. He picks my hands up off my lap and holds them in his.

"Is it really just the _two_ year difference that bothers you?" _It doesn't bother me_, I think to myself. Though I did claim it a reason—maybe because I feel I have no real reason to try and find something wrong. I need my mind to shut up.

I avoid his eyes, and say, "well I'm not extraordinary, or anything." _And you are_. "I'm not pretty—not ugly, but I'm not pretty."

"And?" He asks, shrugging, "I like how you look," He leans closer, "a lot." My face heats up; it's not fair, how nice he is to me when I'm so determined to find something that proves I'm wrong for him. It's not fair to him. "You're deadly smart." I never took much notice of myself, not until I met him—now I just feel unsure of myself.

He's tall, he's extremely good-looking, strong... all while I'm just about five-four, average looking, and weak. I don't want to be self-deprecating, but my mother once said we are our worst critics; it's almost human nature, to me, to hide in the background.

He looks like a man; I am not nearly as curvy, or tall, or filled-out as most women. I am flat-chested, and pin straight. I feel like a child.

"Look at me," he says softly. My heart thumps in my chest at the sound of his voice, so soft and low. I look up at him. "I like you, okay? Believe that, for me." I can't say no to him—not when he looks at me like that. Not when he speaks to me so softly, and is patient with me despite my battling mind. I nod slowly, and he smiles.

"Thank you."

He lifts my chin up, and presses his lips to mine in a sweet, slow kiss.

And I am breathless.

XxXxX

That night, Tobias and I go to the pit with the others.

He keeps his arm around me, and for once I don't feel so alone around Will and Christina. Though I never truly was.

I'm not used to Tobias being with us, but I like it. I like that he holds me against him, like he's done it a million times before. I like how easy this feels. And I'm not sure if it's the alcohol in my system that makes me feel lighter, or if I'm just tired of arguing with myself that I've finally given in. I haven't even drunken that much.

Either way I lean into him more, welcoming the warmth from his body, happily.

I notice that he doesn't try to kiss me; it's actually a bit of a relief. Tobias keeps his affections to a minimum. Like me, in front of the others, it's timid flirtation. We both appreciate leaving those intimate moments for when we're alone.

Though he kisses the top of my head, my forehead, or my cheek occasionally.

I notice Al, glancing over at us every time he thinks I'm not looking; he's sulking. I feel bad, but I can't—I won't—find it in me to tell Tobias to not be around whenever he is. I try not to look over at Al anymore tonight.

Tobias and I leave the others around eleven. We head back to his apartment, hand in hand. When we get inside, it's warm; like the first time he brought me here. He heads toward the kitchen, grabbing a glass; he turns the sink on and fills it with water.

I watch him for a moment, as he takes a sip. He gives me a curious look, smirking slightly. He sets the glass down on the counter, and watches me a moment, "what?" I smile, shaking my head.

"Nothing," I answer, "I just got distracted." The moment I say it, my skin warms.

"By me drinking water?"

I decide to play along and shrug, "you're quite talented." Tobias laughs.

I yawn, and he says, "you can stay here tonight, Tris. If you're tired. I swear, I don't mind." I nod, so he knows I heard him but I don't answer right away. I sit down on the edge of his bed. I'm exhausted, but I feel too on edge to really relax. Tobias walks around the counter towards me.

He crouches beside the bed to look me in the eye, his expression is soft, "what's wrong?" He asks quietly.

"I just...I'm not used to this," I answer, biting into my already raw lip. It's not being here, or being with him that worries me; it's myself I don't trust. I'm afraid I'll give in to my wants; because I know what I want. He rests a hand on my knee, giving it a small squeeze.

"We're not doing anything you don't want to do," Tobias says, sitting down beside me. As if testing the waters, he places his hand over mine between our bodies. He's staring down at them with a blank expression. His bed is warm, the mattress soft, despite it being empty for most of the day. I've been here before, sitting on this bed, but my mind is fuzzy; it makes me worry.

Though the other voice tells me I'm being irrational.

"...it's not that I don't want to," I say slowly, "not yet, anyways." I know, that eventually, we may get to that point. And I know I will want to. But I don't know when that moment will be, and it's certainly not now. He looks up at me, nodding, "I just don't understand a lot about this, I guess."

"I don't either," Tobias admits. He rubs my hand in soothing circles, "Do you remember the stories I told you, where Zeke always dragged me on double dates, and every time it always ended with them making out and me somehow offending the girl I was with." I laugh. I realize, then, that he's trying to make me laugh—he's trying to make me feel at ease, and I couldn't be more thankful, because it works.

"Well you aren't exactly the nicest," I say. I'm not either.

"Somehow you're still here," he grins, leaning forward to peck my lips. I smile, meeting his eyes.

"How early on did you offend those girls, Tobias?" I tease. He laughs, shaking his head.

"_Too_ early on." It doesn't seem like he's bothered by those, though. We fall quiet, with his thumb drawing circles on the back of my hand. I look down, releasing a shaky breath.

I feel shy again as I say, "sex is new to me..." I wonder if it's the alcohol, buzzing through my system, that keeps throwing this thought back in my face. Or if I'm still just doing it to myself because I'm scared.

"I've never even gotten close," he says softly, "so it's all new for me too. But I can promise you I'm not gonna intentionally hurt you, or touch you without it being okay with you first. Okay?" The weight on my chest lessens and I nod, sighing with relief.

I would have never pictured myself having this conversation; especially not with a boy. But I find it easier to talk to him this way, because he doesn't judge me, or give me a look like I'm a silly little girl.

"Okay."

"Come here," he says, pulling me up onto his lap. He crosses my legs behind his back, curling his arms around my waist. My arms snake around his neck and his lips crash into mine; he pulls me as close to his body as he can, and his lips skim down my neck and stop at the neckline of my shirt. "If I can kiss you like this for the time being, I will be content." He whispers, placing a few kisses under my jaw. His fingers tease the back of my neck.

I laugh slightly, nodding, and pull his face back to mine. I kiss him without fear—without fear that he'll hurt me, or take advantage of me. And he kisses me right back, for as long as he can before we have to break away for air.

I don't know how long we do this for, but the room is darker and the need for him is satisfied with every passing minute he holds me against him. I never thought I needed anybody—I always saw it to be too much trouble—except this is anything but. This is content. It's not just need, I've realized, it's want and it's trust. And I trust him—how much, I can't be sure yet, but it's enough for now.

"Tris Prior," Tobias says against my lips, "you might think I'm saying this too early, but I have to tell you that I am absolutely crazy about you."


	11. Enemy

**A/N: I woke up to such amazing and lovely reviews the other morning, that the smile has not left my face! So to thank you all for that, I am posting some new chapters tonight. For you! Thank you so much for being absolutely amazing! (There will be another chapter for this story up tonight, and there will probably be two chapters for Four's as well!)**

**Side note: the Insurgent featurette on **_**Yahoo!**_** was mind-blowing! If you haven't seen it, please do because I sat there for a good ten minutes after it was finished and almost cried. Haha, I'm so excited for March!**

CHAPTER 11 – ENEMY

I'm awake, but I don't open my eyes. The blanket that's twisted and tangled around my legs is warm, and the bed dips down with my weight. It's soft—and nothing like my mattress. The sweet, yet heavy and musky scent fills my nose then and my eyes peek open, blinded by the sunlight streaming in through the window.

That's not my window either. I lift my head up off the pillow, glancing around; I'm in Tobias's apartment still. Though I don't see him anywhere at the moment. I was so tired, I must have unconsciously agreed to stay.

I sigh, sitting up; my body aches and pops from sleep, and the blanket falls to my lap with a quiet rustle. I strain my ears to hear for any sign that he's here, but I don't catch any. _I wonder where he went_.

I look down and see the make-shift bed he made last night is all picked up; the blankets sit on a chair, and the pillow is on the end of the bed by my feet. I stand up and head to the bathroom; I notice my reflection—the sleep lines beneath my eyes, and the marks from my sleeves. I didn't wash the make-up off my face, either; the once even, neat black lines are now smudged under my eyes and in my eyelashes. I sigh, casting my eyes over my hair. It's not too bad, but it sticks out and tangles in some spots.

I hear the sound of the front door opening, and I step out of the bathroom.

Tobias walks into the room. His eyes meet mine and he smiles, "you're awake. How did you sleep?" He asks, kicking his sneakers off by the door. He went for a run.

"Well." I answer, stretching my muscles out. My body still feels heavy with sleep, but I have to move around. "How did _you_ sleep?" I ask as he wraps me in a tepid hug. He's sweaty from his run, but at the moment I don't care.

"You know, the floor is not as uncomfortable as you may think," Tobias says, smirking, "I slept fine."

"How long did I sleep?"

He shrugs, "ten hours. I wasn't gonna wake you; you looked too comfortable." He says, kissing my forehead. I shake my head against his chest.

"What, did you watch me?" I ask.

"You know, you're quite a heavy sleeper," Tobias teases; I give him a look and he laughs, "I'm joking, Tris."

"I know," I say, trying to fight the smile. He squeezes me just a little bit tighter, and I embrace him. He pulls back to look at me, smoothing my hair down. "It's a lost cause," I tell him, defeated. My hair needs a brush. He smirks.

"It looks fine," he says, tucking most of it behind my ear, "I don't own a hairbrush; my hair is too short." I laugh, nodding as I reach up to ruffle his hair playfully.

XxXxX

When I get back to the school, I grab lunch with Caleb. He's having an in-depth conversation with himself, since I don't really have an interest in water filtration and how it works. But for him, I try to make it look like I know what he's talking about, at least a little bit.

He eyes my tattoo then; I had forgotten that I'd even gotten it. He frowns, slightly, "you do know how mom and dad will react, right? Unless it's a fake on—,"

"—it's not," I say, shaking my head. I absentmindedly skim my fingers over it. "...it's real."

"Again, you are aware of how they'll react, correct?"

I nod, "I know, Caleb. Please don't start this; I'll deal with the disapproval when I get it from them. Can't you just pretend you didn't see it?" I plead; he looks indecisive and I pout slightly, "Please? Just act like you never knew about it." He sighs; I know how much he hates keeping secrets from our parents. But he's my brother, and he's lied for me before. As I have for him. He'll do this for me.

"Fine," he sighs. "I was wondering why you've barely been around for the last few weeks."

"Well, we have different friends," I say simply, "you're always with them, I'm always with mine." Caleb nods. _And I have a boyfriend now_... except I think I'll bite my tongue on that discussion a little longer. I'm not sure how much of this whiplash he can take from me today.

I didn't realize just how much I actually missed my brother until now; he listens to my stories, about most of my nights at the pit—he's weary of the idea of me going to such a place, but he holds back his opinions.

I tell him about Four; leaving out that he's my boyfriend. I almost tell him; it is too easy to get lost in honesty, I realize. I don't need Caleb going all big-brother on me, not right now. Especially not when the concept of dating is so new to me. So far, Caleb hasn't said anything against him; I think he actually approves of the Four I've described. He just doesn't know the part about us.

But when he brings up the girl, Susan, that he's so very fond of, I just want to tell him about Tobias and me. I just can't bring myself to say it—not because I'm embarrassed, or trying to keep it a secret forever. Not really. I just don't want that in Caleb's knowledge right now.

"Have you spoken to mom or dad recently?" I ask. Caleb nods.

"A few days ago," he answers, "they want to talk to you sometime. They were mostly checking in on us again, wondering how things are." I nod once; I miss them, a lot. But I like it here. "They want to come up for a visit."

"Did you tell them yes?"

"I did," he answers, "should I not have?"

"No," I say almost too quickly, "you should have, I mean. Of course I want to see them." Caleb smiles then, and nods. He still looks boyish to me, but he looks older—like he really is the older sibling.

I could never forget his face, but I almost don't recognize him.

XxXxX

When I go back for dinner, Lynn and Will are the only ones at the table. Lynn seems to be determined to win whatever it is they're arguing about, but when I sit down she just turns away from him. Will shakes his head.

"Did I interrupt something?" I ask, pushing my tray forward. Lynn steals the lettuce on the side, and begins to rip it into smaller shreds. I don't comment, but I scowl.

"Not really," Lynn sighs, "we just have different opinions."

The filter between my brain and my mouth must have stopped, because I say, "Don't your opinions differ with everyone's?" My jaw drops when I realize what I said—Lynn watches, glaring slightly. I expect to get sucker punched, but she drops the lettuce on to the tray and sits back.

And then she laughs.

"I have to give credit where credit is due," she says, smirking, "well done, stiff. I didn't think you had it in you, but maybe you could be a bitch." I release the breath I had been holding in, and let myself laugh with her for a moment.

"That was a mistake," I reply, shaking my head.

"A truthful one." Will speaks up. Lynn barely acknowledges him; I interrupted something, though I don't press on the matter anymore.

"Hey—where's Christina?" I glance around the cafeteria to see if she's in line, but I don't see her anywhere. "And Al?"

"Christina wasn't feeling well, so she went back to the dorm to rest for a while." Will answers, "But Al, I'm not sure. He was back at the dorm a little earlier, he might still be there." I nod.

We hear a cheerful, loud scream sound from the other end of the room then; the doors are thrust open from the courtyard and Uriah comes charging through the aisle with Marlene thrown over his shoulder. She waves at us as they run past. Her face is bright red.

Lynn leans across the table towards me, lowering her voice, "have you noticed how much time they've been spending together lately?" I shake my head—I haven't noticed. Usually, when I see Uriah it's just the two of us, or the group. "And Uriah has been like super flirty with her..."

She looks amused.

"Maybe he likes her," I shrug. Lynn rolls her eyes.

"Of course he likes her," she says, snapping her fingers at me, "wake up, stiff." I give her a hard look; she shrugs me off. "Has your newfound relationship made you less observant than usual?" I want to be angry at her insult, but I know it's in her nature—she's a hard person to like, but when you do you try to overlook her abrasiveness.

"Not less," I finally say, "I just spend more time with Four, so I'm not around."

After a few minutes, Uriah and Marlene come back and they sit down beside us; with Marlene beside me, and Uriah across from us, next to Lynn. "What was that all about?" Lynn asks them. I'm about to eat, but the food is now cold; I push the tray away from me.

Uriah reaches for the hamburger; he doesn't notice, but I shake my head at him.

He shrugs, swallowing his food before he answers, "I could carry you around if you're jealous." He's joking, but by how frantic he is to grab the table after Lynn punches him I take it she's not. But she smirks.

"I am not jealous," she promises, "and I wouldn't let you."

"Yeah, yeah," he says, waving her off. He glances at me, giving me an easy, toothy grin, and then says, "we're going to the pit tonight—all are welcome to join." Lynn rolls her eyes at him; I find it humorous how extravagant he makes the smallest things seem. "Eric has some fights going on later. I heard he managed to get Peter to fight."

"Are you serious?" Just as I ask this, Peter stops at a table a few down—he's grinning like he's excited. He almost looks normal, but I wouldn't recognize him. He turns his head, and catches me watching him.

I mentally kick myself. He's coming over, "did you hear, stiff? I'm fighting tonight." He asks me this like I have an interest–I'm only interested if he's losing.

"Well, for our benefit I hope you lose," Lynn says, looking unamused. "Honestly, do you ever just stop?" Peter's hands slam down onto the table, in front of me; I try not to flinch, but my body automatically jerks backward.

"I wasn't talking to you," Peter hisses at her. He looks back to me, "Too bad you're not my opponent, stiff. You'd probably burst into tears after the first hit." My hands itch to smack him, or scratch him—anything to see the color of his blood, either spilling or rushing beneath the surface. But I don't. I keep my fingers firmly clasped around my knees and focus on the pressure as I clench and unclench my fists. "Too scared to talk now?" He taunts.

I turn to face him, glaring hard. I clear the hasty, angry retorts from my throat and say, "I'm not afraid of you. And I'm not afraid to take you on," I keep my voice even, firm, as I stare him down, "but I don't need to beat you to prove anything."

I am not afraid of him, not like I thought I was. I'm driven, more, by hate.

Peter glares at me, "we'll see about that." It's not the reaction he wants—not the one he expected. And when he stalks off, I smile a little. He can't get to me if I don't let him, and I won't. But I am worried at what he means by '_we'll see about that_'.

I turn to Uriah, and say, "Okay. We're going to that fight. Do you know who he's up against?"

Uriah shrugs, "don't know yet. But this guy's Eric's secret weapon—according to what Zeke was told."

"Well, I'm all for seeing the bastard child get his ass kicked," Lynn says, rubbing her hands together; the excited glint in her eye tells me she's waited for this day. "What time's the fight?"

XxXxX

"It seems Eric's really amped up the anticipation for this fight," Marlene shouts over the noise; she yells into my ear, though I may have heard her just fine if she were a little farther from me.

Though, my ears ring from all of the noises in general.

I glance around for Tobias, and I spot him on the mezzanine, walking with Zeke. He barely looks over the rowdy crowd taking up the main floor; when he laughs, I find myself smiling. Zeke points from up top, around our area and Tobias looks straight to me.

He waves; Zeke shakes his head, amused, and punches his arm.

I can't hear what Tobias says to him in return, but Zeke bursts out laughing and they head down to where we are. Tobias pulls me into a hug, lifting me off the ground slightly. I wrap my arms around his neck, and hold myself up, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

I don't want to wait until we're alone to kiss him—he doesn't object.

Over his shoulder, I see Eric watching us; my face heats up slightly, and Tobias puts me down, but he doesn't let go of me. I don't look back at Eric. I couldn't read the expression on his face, it would only worry me more if I tried to. "Miss me?" Tobias teases, playfully.

I smile, nodding, "a little bit." A lot, actually—I can't say it doesn't scare me, because it does, depending on him the way that I do. But I also know that I have never felt happier than when he's holding me. I swallow the fear and we wait for the fight to begin.

When Eric speaks, everyone quiets down. He glances over the crowd, the cunning glint in his eyes, "First fight of the night—Peter... and Edward." I look over at Uriah, wondering if he knows who Edward is but Uriah shrugs, shaking his head at me.

I notice his arm is slung around Marlene's shoulders, while she and Lynn strain to look over taller heads. As subtly as I can, I give Uriah a thumbs up and he grins, nodding.

"You know the rules," Eric says, backing out of the ring, "you fight until you no longer can, and nobody concedes. ... ...Go." Peter swings first, determined to get the first hit but Edward is quicker, better.

He uppercuts Peter, hitting him square in the jaw. Peter lets out a painful wail, clutching his face briefly. I shouldn't want to see pain inflicted on anybody, but I want to see Peter's pain.

Peter goes for him again, this time hitting the boy—Edward—in the gut; but Peter has to shake his hand out, and Edward brings his knee up, almost knocking Peter to the ground with the force of it. The crowd is more boisterous than before, rooting for whoever seems to be winning at the moment. And so far, it's still Edward.

I turn to Tobias, who's watching me instead of the fight, "what?"

He leans closer to me, so I can hear him, and says, "I don't think I've ever seen you this engrossed in one of the fights," he answers, "you look almost lethal."

I smirk, "that's because Peter's losing." Tobias raises an eyebrow at me. He doesn't know about Peter, so I shake my head, "I'll explain it later," I promise. Tobias nods and I turn to see Edward's fist connect with Peter's face again, and then Peter's down.

Blood drips from his nose, and the new, gash in his lip. Blood is a strange color, it's darker than you expect it to be, like a blackish, opaque red.

I barely see anything wrong with Edward, but Peter looks _bad_. Tobias walks through the people in front of us and he and another boy pick Peter up from the ground; they carry him out of the room.

I feel happy, though I shouldn't. No matter how mean Peter can be, I shouldn't be happy at his pain—it's wrong. It's a disgusting trait to have.

Tobias returns after a few minutes, looking slightly amused but uncertain. His fingers grip my arm at the bend, and he pulls me away, until we're in a quieter area. The next fight begins but I can no longer see the ring, which may be his intention. "What was that all about?"

"Peter is..." I'm not sure how to describe him; he's an asshole, for sure, but I feel like even that may be an understatement; I don't want Peter dead, I would never wish that, but I don't exactly want to see him up on his high horse either. I sigh, "Peter is to me, what Eric is to you." It's the best I can do; Tobias nods, understanding.

"You haven't even been here half a year, and you already have an enemy." I frown; he says it like I tried to make one. "You wanted to see Peter hurt?" He asks. I don't want to nod, but I do, slowly.

"Sort of," I reply, "...yes. The first time I met him he shut my arm in a freezer door." The muscle in his jaw jumps.

"Why did he do that?"

"Because I was new," I answer lamely.

"I can't imagine he has many friends with that type of greeting," Tobias says; I shake my head, agreeing with him.

"He has followers." I sigh, "but I don't want to talk about Peter anymore." Tobias smiles, and nods.

"Okay," he wraps an arm around my waist and we head back out into the main area together, with the others.


	12. Familiar

CHAPTER 12 – FAMILIAR

My mother hugs me tightly, like I haven't seen her in ages. My father pulls Caleb into his embrace first, and then me. Automatically, my arms return the gesture. Everything is familiar; my father still smells like silver birch, and mint; my mother, like vanilla and honeysuckle.

We are greeted by Ms. Matthews; she speaks to them for a moment, praising our—mostly Caleb's—grades and then we are shuffled into a large room with tables at the opposite end, and two couches facing each other. I would guess it to be the teacher's lounge, but it looks too modest—too plain, and boring.

I remembered to wear my jacket, with the collar touching just below my chin so that my tattoo is hidden. Caleb wouldn't let me leave the dorm building without it. I wasn't about to disagree with him anyway.

"We would ask how school is going," my father says, smiling at the both of us, "but Ms. Matthews's overview seems to tell all." Caleb and I exchange a brief look, like the ones all siblings seem to be wired with when they're hiding secrets.

This secret being that school has not been much of my priority, like it has been Caleb's. Also being my tattoo, and how—though Caleb won't say it outright—'corrupt' I have become. Wearing more form fitting, dark clothes and vanity. My parents have surely noticed, but they don't look at me any different; my father does, at least a little, but he doesn't give me a look of disapproval. I am still his little girl, but maybe I'm just a little more sure of myself.

"We've missed you," my mother smiles, reaching over to give my hand a squeeze. Her hands are soft, and warm, like they always have been. The tendons jump like piano strings beneath her skin, and I rub my thumb over them, as if to smoothen them out. "You look different, _good_ different." She looks at Caleb first, and then me.

And I notice that it's not just me she's talking about; I didn't notice that Caleb has been smoothing his hair down, neat and flat. While I let my hair frame my face more, casting shadows along the edges of my face.

"How have you been?" She asks us, "Have you made friends?" The fluorescent bulb just above Caleb and me flickers, then stops, flickers, then stops. I nod, and Caleb sits up straighter.

"I've made a few," he answers, "Beatrice, too." I'm used to hearing my friends call me Tris now, that I almost forget what Beatrice sounds like—it sounds too formal to me.

I clear my throat, "But they're all in classes... right now," I say, keeping my voice even. I lie too easily, but no guilt follows.

"Well, tell us," my father says, "what the education is like." I let Caleb explain it—he's more academically engrossed than I am. He tells my parents about the girl, Susan—the smile hasn't let my parents' faces since he mentioned her; how polite and wonderful and smart she is.

I want to tell them about Tobias; I still want to tell Caleb. But he's two years older, legally an adult—he lives on his own, and he works as a co-leader to a hangout; I'm not sure how any of them would react. I know him well, though, at least in the moments that we're alone. I know the real Tobias, I can live with keeping him a secret from them for just a little bit longer.

My father and Caleb decide to take a walk around the campus, suggested by our mother. When they're out of the room, my mother turns to me. "Your father was weary about you two being so far from home," she says, smiling slightly. I smile in return, that sounds like him. "Tell me, what are your friends like?"

I have always enjoyed these moments with my mother, when she acted like my best friend—when I knew I could tell her anything. I know that still applies now. I wipe my palms on my jeans, and sit up straighter. I let Caleb do all of the talking before, like I always have, but now this question is directed towards me and it's just me and my mother.

"Well my roommate, Christina, is great. She's the one that gave me this...makeover." I say, laughing a little. My mother joins in, shaking her head.

"I was going to ask when you started wearing make-up," she says, "it looks very nice." My face warms; I am not used to compliments, not really. My mother was always the epitome of beauty in my eyes, with her light brown hair and vibrant, blue eyes. I was always just ordinary.

"And then there's Uriah, Marlene, Lynn...Al and Will," I list off; I don't mention Peter, or Molly, or Eric because I don't need my mother worrying. "And Four."

"Is that a nickname?" My mother asks. I nod, but don't elaborate. Tobias wears his pride in that alias—why he chooses to keep his real name a secret, I'm not sure. I assume he'll tell me when he wants to. "What are they like?"

I tell her about them; how Uriah's eating habits are insane, and how Marlene and Lynn act like sisters; I tell her about Christina and Will, and how they got together—my mother smiles, almost from ear to ear. I mention Al, and how kind he is.

"What's—Four, is it? What's he like?" I blush, willing myself to calm down before she notices, but she does and she smiles, "is he cute?"

"Mom—,"

"—you can tell me, Beatrice," my mother says, patting the back of my hands. I bite my lip; I am reluctant to tell her, but she's never teased me whenever I showed some form of affection. I don't believe this would be much different.

I nod, embarrassed, "...yeah, he is." She beams.

"Tell me about him."

I don't know how much I should tell her—I start with how he looks; tall, taut, and defined. A long, narrow face with a hooked nose, angled jaw, and hallows beneath his cheekbones. His deep set, dark blue eyes and short hair. How his lips are usually always in a pout.

My mother laughs, "you must really like him." She doesn't know how difficult it is for me to say it out loud—to actually allow myself the freedom to like somebody, maybe even love them unconditionally. I don't know if I love Tobias, it's way too soon for me to know. _Right?_

I don't tell her about the knife-throwing, or the night we scaled the Ferris Wheel. They were dangerous, daring moments; ones I prefer to keep between us.

I carefully mention his age, "he's nineteen..." Silence. But my mother's expression doesn't change.

"I trust you to make your own decisions," she says softly. "You will be eighteen soon; I know you'll be responsible." I'm gaping at her; it was not the reaction I expected—I expected thedreaded_ talk_, amongst various lectures even.

"Really?" I ask. She nods.

"Come on, let's go find your father and your brother and get some lunch."

XxXxX

Class is almost half over the next morning, when Peter limps in.

There's a blackish, blue-purple discoloration around his eye, and another good sized bruise just beneath his chin. The split in his lip has scarred over, and the cut above his eye has become a scab.

He looks sickly pale, and his face is swollen. I feel pride for Edward, and nothing for Peter.

He limps over to his seat, with the help of Molly, and sits down. I notice his shirt is shaped weird, and realize there must be a brace around his ribs; had Edward kicked him at some point? Christina watches them, just as amused as I am. I can only imagine how wounded Peter's pride is right now—he bragged about how he would be victorious; he bragged to me about it, and I watched him fail.

It's still despicable to be so triumphant over his pain, especially since the worst he's done is shut my arm in a freezer door; but my mind tells me Peter is not a nice person, by any means. There is no reason to attempt to understand him, or try and change things for the better. My gut tells me that he will never change, he will only get worse.

He glances at me, glaring hard, before turning that glare down to his desk. He won't look at me, he knows I am just waiting for my moment.

XxXxX

I sit on Tobias's bed, watching the skyline from the window as I wait for him to return. I check the clock every couple of minutes; he was supposed to be back nearly ten minutes ago. He and Zeke had to work the control room, but Tobias asked me to wait for him.

So I am. He gave me his key, and said if I wanted to I could wait at his apartment. The quiet was tempting.

It's almost ten o'clock, and my eyelids feel heavy. I hear the door open, and peek through my eyelashes. Tobias's footsteps sound dense, and sluggish; he kicks his shoes off by the door, and then I hear him getting closer.

He drops down beside me, jostling the mattress. My body jumps with it, and I open my eyes, meeting his sleepy, blue ones. The corner of his mouth tugs into a smile, and he yawns, "sorry it took me so long," Tobias whispers, "I got held up."

I shake my head, smiling back, "it's alright."

I've never slept in the same bed as a boy, but I am too tired, as is he, to make him take the floor. I wouldn't agree to it if he offered anyway. He lifts his head off the pillow, and presses a kiss to my lips. "I can take the fl—,"

My hand covers his mouth, and I tell him, "—stay. Sleep." Tobias smiles against my palm, and he stretches out on his stomach, pulling the blanket up over me. I want to tell him he doesn't have to do that, but at the same time I couldn't be more grateful. I turn my body on the side, facing him, and watch him as he falls asleep. I count his even breaths until I'm too tired to keep track.

XxXxX

The next morning, I accidentally oversleep. Tobias is still out beside me, snoring into my ear quietly. His breath tickles my skin, and I realize that at some point during the night he wrapped his arms around me, and I curled into him.

It's almost nine; I am late for class, but that blind panic doesn't surface like it used to. I've never cut school, and I could still make it for my next class, but my body is still heavy with sleep, that I don't want to move.

I stare up at the ceiling for a few minutes, debating whether or not I should wake him up and get up, myself. After a moment, I lightly shake his arm and he stirs awake. "What time is it?" He asks, his voice thick with sleep. He cranes his neck around to see the clock, and then turns back over to me, "you do know it's Monday, right?"

"I know," I sigh, running my fingers over the blanket. Tobias chuckles beside me, shaking the mattress.

"You have to go, Tris," he says, but it sounds empty, uncommitted. I know I _have_ to. I just don't _want_ to. We don't move—we just stare at each other for a few minutes, in silence. Tobias grabs my hand in his, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles.

"I'm still in the same clothes from yesterday," I scowl. "I wouldn't be able to get back to my dorm to change."

"I can give you a new shirt," Tobias shrugs. As much as I enjoy the idea, I don't think his shirts would fit me—actually, I _know_ they wouldn't. But I nod anyway, because the thought of wearing his scent all day is just as pleasing. He sits up to kick the blanket out of the way and stands, heading toward the dresser.

I watch him; each movement is fluid, effortless—like he knows what he's doing at every second. He's not stiff, or in some uncomfortable skin, he's perfect. I'm staring at him so intently, that I don't notice the amused look he gives me until I meet his eyes.

I blush, and look down at the blanket.

He crosses the room, back over to me, and hands me the sweater. I take it from his outstretched hand, but I don't make a move to put it on. Tobias heads toward the bathroom, closing the door only halfway. I hear the tap turn on, and I lean forward to see what he's doing. He's brushing his teeth; his eyes meet mine in the mirror and I look away, hearing his quiet laugh. I realize he's giving me this time to change.

I pull my shirt up over my head and pick his sweater up off the bed. I pull it on over my head and untuck my hair from the neckline. The sweater is warm and it smells like him. The sleeves go past my fingers, I roll them up twice, to my wrists.

Tobias comes back out; he looks me over and then smirks, "I like how you look in my shirt." I smile, and shake my head.

"Even though I'm practically swimming in it?" I tease, slipping my fingers through his.

"It looks good on you," he says, tilting my chin up to kiss me. His fingers ease into my hair, and he presses his lips to my cheek, "I think you've ruined me, Tris. I don't think I'll ever want to sleep alone again." I laugh—I'm glad it's not just me who thinks that. Though, I know that if I don't spend nights back at the dorm eventually I'll be caught sneaking back during the day, or Christina will assume things.

"You haven't heard me talk in my sleep yet," my mother always used to tell me she'd hear me through my walls at night, talking—mostly gibberish—in my sleep. Tobias grins, sliding his nose along my jaw.

"Do you, really?"

I shrug, "sometimes. Not that I make much sense."

"Hmm, I'll have to stay awake and listen," he jokes, pulling back. I shake my head, and he laughs; we leave his apartment hand in hand.


	13. Blood

**A/N: Sorry guys, I wanted this to be up sooner but I am currently going through exams **_(ugh)_**. I apologize for this chapter being a little shorter than the rest. I am going to try and post another one later on today for you!**

CHAPTER 13 — BLOOD

I've never been put in those rooms where it's like a time-out for doing something wrong; I don't think I want to know what they're like.

I slip into my next class, I am the first one here. I breathe a sigh of relief and wait for Christina to show up.

She and Will walk side by side, laughing about something; Christina spots me and waves. She kisses Will, a little longer, and sloppier, than I'm used to seeing—I look down, afraid that I'm intruding on their otherwise private moment.

Christina sits down beside me then, "where were you this morning?" She asks, looking over me. Then she smirks at me, "Four's sweater?"

My lips press into a hard line for a moment, "I just got back. I didn't have time to change clothes."

She's gaping at me, and for a few seconds I'm confused by her reaction.

"Oh my god, did you—," she looks around, making sure it's only us. She lowers her voice, "—did you sleep with him?" I tense up. I want to strangle her.

I shake my head, glaring at her, "No!" She looks disappointed. "I didn't sleep with him... not in the way you're thinking."

"So, wait you _did_ sleep with him," Christina says, factually, "you just didn't... have sex." A list of ways to hurt her goes through my head; strangling her still seems to be my best option.

My face feels like it will melt off; though I can't find it in myself to stay angry at her. I'm just rigid. "He let me stay over," I explain quickly, "We were too tired, I didn't want him to walk me back like that."

"Aww," Christina laughs, biting her thumb nail. People walk by us now, some filing in to their seats, and others just walking over to talk to their friends. "That is so sweet."

I'm still trying to recover from her assumption, when class begins. I try to discreetly unroll the sleeves and pull them up around my fingers; I lean on my arms, breathing in the scent of him.

XxXxX

Christina and I head down to dinner later on. The cafeteria isn't as full as it usually is, "Where is everybody?" Christina asks, sitting down next to me.

Lynn shrugs, "Don't know. But I heard Peter can walk again."

"Yeah, he's back in class," Christina nods with a scowl on her face. "Though I think losing wounded his ego a little bit. I haven't heard any snide remarks..."

"Yet." Lynn says. She turns to me, "So... you slept with Four?" I turn to glare at Christina, who's smirking into her mashed potatoes.

"I did not sleep with him," I clarify, "I stayed over. Nothing happened."

"You're bright red," she comments.

"Thanks for stating the obvious," I say hotly. Christina rubs my arm, giving it a light squeeze.

"You know we're joking," she says, "besides, we just want you to be...you know, less stiff." I give her another look and she laughs, "Oh come on, Tris. We have talked about much worse, believe me."

"I do," I answer, shaking my head, "I'm not as open as you guys."

"We'll get you there," it sounds more like a promise. She looks at Lynn, "hey, where's Marlene?"

"Where do you think?"

"With Uriah?"

"Bingo!" Lynn shouts, uncommitted, "they've been gone all day. They didn't go to class, who the hell knows what they've been up to." She smirks slightly. I don't try to finish her thought process.

Will and Al come running through the doors, looking disheveled and breathless; how far did they run to get here?

They stop at the table to catch their breaths for a moment, and Will turns to me, "..._Four_..."

My heart throbs in my ears so loud, I want to cover them, "What about Four?" I ask. Will gulps at air for what feels like forever before he can answer.

"He got into a fight, with Eric." Will says. My blood runs cold―what does that mean? What happened?

"Is he hurt?" I'm on my feet, following Will before the others can even stand.

"I don't know, but Eric's not in good shape," Will answers, "apparently one of Four's hits broke the piercings in his lip. He looked bad when I left." I need to see Tobias―I need to be patient, we'll get the when we get there.

Tobias never wants to fight Eric. Something happened―something that provoked him.

We make it through the back entrance, Tori rushes by me with bloody rags. She gives me a brief glance, but one of triumph; Tobias must be okay, then.

But my stomach doesn't calm down, when we turn the corner. There's a group of guys, and Eric is one of them, leaning against one of the walls and holding a new rag to his face. His eye is already swelling. He pulls the rag away, to use the cleaner side and I see what Tobias had done to him.

There are no piercings in his lip anymore, they're gone replaced by nearly dried blood. His nose looks crooked―maybe broken―with more blood dripping and some dried blood above his upper lip.

His chin is swollen, but there's too much red to see if any discoloration has started. He puts the rag over the mangled mess, and when he spots me he looks like he's ready to spit in my direction.

Tobias did all that?

Will quickly guides me past him; we go down another corridor and I see Zeke, Marlene, and Uriah all the way at the end. Tobias's slumped form takes in deep breaths, sitting against the wall. He's glaring at the floor, holding a red-stained rag around his hand, and I suddenly wonder if that's his blood or Eric's.

Zeke spots me, and turns to him; Tobias looks up at me. His expression is softer, but also looks ashamed. I kneel down beside him, "Tris―,"

I'm not angry, but I stop him before he can apologize, "―what happened?"

"Eric said some things about you," Uriah says quietly, "to him, and―,"

"―and I lost control," Tobias finishes, wincing as he pulls the rag back. His knuckles are split open, raw and red. He tries to get rid of the blood between his fingers, but it stains his skin, in between the lines and crevices.

"What did he say?" I ask. Zeke ushers the others down the hall then, so it's just me and Tobias. He looks at me, pained.

"He _suggested_ to everybody listening... that I was doing you. Because you're young, and you're new." Tobias sighs. He's still angry, "and he also asked some other things."

"What other things?"

"I don't want to tell you them here," He says, "they _were_ only things that he knew, because he had found them out somehow. He used them against me, publicly, this time." I don't want to tell him he's scaring me, but he is. What things?

"Can we go back to your apartment then?" He nods, and we stand up. For a moment, I'm afraid we'll have to walk past Eric again but Tobias leads me down a different hallway and then we're in familiar territory.

He unlocks the door, and let's me in first. My fingers feel blindly for the light, and when I turn it on I see Tobias a little better.

There's a gash on his bottom lip, already beginning to heal, and red on his shirt―probably Eric's this time. I reach up, and run my thumb carefully over his lips. I wonder if he felt it, or if he even knows about it.

"What things did Eric say?"

Tobias takes the rag off of his hand, and throws it into the sink. He sighs, long and tired. "This wasn't how I wanted to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"Why I'm vague. Why nobody knows anything about me besides the alias, Four." He sits down in the chair in front of me and tries to meet my eyes, "I don't let people know about my father, or my family in general. I don't tell them about me, because they would all look at me like I'm damaged."

I don't think that's possible; if there's one thing I noticed about him, it's how high he holds his head, how tall he stands, and how when he's supposed to be weak he's strong. Especially around me.

I sit down in the other chair, so we're almost eye level, and wait for him to continue.

"My mother passed away when I was only nine," he starts; his fingers curl around the edge of the chair as he speaks, "my father said she died while in labor with my sibling; who also died the same day." I feel the threatening prickle of tears in my eyes, but I don't cry; I try to hold them back, "my father used to beat her. I remember watching her back hit the walls of our living room, almost every other night, with so much force. I was always amazed he had never broken any of her ribs... somehow my mother always took it. She was afraid, she always was. She never showed him any weakness though―I think that's what angered him more. The thought that he couldn't control her, maybe.

"My mother was skittish, she always sat on the edge of chairs, and always looked around. She made sure she had ways of escaping." Tobias breathes on shaky breaths, "but my father used to beat me too." I feel the first tear roll down my face; I wipe at it quickly, but I know he saw it. "Everything I did wrong, I was either beaten or locked in the closet upstairs to think about what I'd done." I want to tell him to stop, not for me but for him. Except, I know he needs to talk about it―that's why he's telling me about it.

Though I don't see him any different. He's still the same Four―still the same Tobias I have come to know.

"And it wasn't always with his fists. He would use his belts too." Tobias bites his lip for a moment, and then says, "it got worse after my mother died. He would come home from work, and he'd be pissed off. I always tried to eat early, and stay in my room. But there were times he made me sit at the table with him, so I had no choice. If I missed a chore, or if I didn't finish my homework... stupid stuff that could be easily fixed. There were nights where he beat me so severely that I couldn't sleep on my back. But there were times when he hit my face, and when I went to school I would lie and say stupid excuses so nobody would know. I don't know why I still call him my father." I picture fourteen, fifteen, sixteen-year-old Tobias in a bedroom, maybe his, trying not to show weakness. It turns my stomach.

I'm not sure what to say; to say I'm sorry would be like insulting him. I remember one of my father's co-workers was accused of something like this a few years ago.

"He was sick of me not being the obedient child he wanted, so he sent me to school up here. He assumed I would hate it and would want to go back home; he didn't realize I was tired of nightly abuse."

Instead of saying something, I reach over and grab his hand. This doesn't change how I see him―because he's nothing like his father. Not the Tobias I know.

He looks stunned when I grab his hand, "after what happened tonight... I scared myself, Tris. I kept asking, after I calmed down a little, if this was how my father felt when he beat me." I've never seen him cry, but a few tears stream down his face and I want to wipe them away.

"You're not your father, Tobias. Okay?" I ask quietly, "you're not."

"Suppose this is only the first time I lose control?" He asks, his voice strained, "what if...what if I hit you?"

"Push that thought from your mind," I say firmly, "because that won't happen. You're better than that. I know you are." He stares into my eyes for a few minutes, unmoving.

He wipes his face dry, and sighs. "You're not looking at me like I'm a kicked puppy, or something."

"Well, you're not." I say, "You're not."


	14. Safe

CHAPTER 14 — SAFE

I sit on the counter, next to the sink and run the tap on warm. Tobias holds his hand out beneath the water; I watch as it turns pink from the blood.

I grabbed a new rag from the bathroom, and now I'm trying to wash the red out of his skin, carefully so I don't reopen his cuts. His expression is stoic—he doesn't move, he just lets me take care of him.

The dried blood isn't as sticky, it comes off fairly easily and a pool of pink disappears down the drain. We aren't talking—I don't think he has anything else he wants to say, and I'm not sure what I could say.

I shut the tap off when I can see some of the pale skin of his knuckles. They're already swollen and turning purple. "You might want to change your shirt," I say; Eric's blood is still on the collar of his grey t-shirt. It looks black, but it's dried in splatters and drips.

Tobias nods, and he heads over to the dresser while I grab ice for his hand. I've never actually taken care of somebody in distress; Caleb was always the natural at it. But I feel like I know what I'm doing—that I'm not useless in somebody's time of need.

Though I don't believe Tobias would agree to call it that.

I grab a clean rag and wrap it around the ice bag; I turn to see a shirtless Tobias, and I forget what I'm doing. On his back, there is more ink than skin. Almost every inch is covered by his tattoo.

The ink curls around his neck, and I know it stops just before his collarbones on either side. They look like ropes around his ribs, and covering his spine are symbols, four of which I don't recognize. The one I do, is exactly like the one Christina got a while ago. The fire, rounded off my a bordering circle.

I remember, during our game of twenty questions, he said he'd show me someday; maybe I wasn't supposed to see it yet. But it's incredible, I can't help but stare.

He's about to put a new shirt on when I blurt, "—wait!" Tobias freezes, glancing over his shoulder at me. "Sorry...it's just your tattoo. It's _amazing_."

"I don't invite many people to see me," he says quietly.

"I can't imagine why," I reply, "I mean, look at you..." I feel like all of the air just left my body; I could stare at him forever.

Tobias turns to face me, a small, shy smile on his lips, "I did say I'd show you sometime."

I smile, "that you did," I say, slowly, "right before you kissed me." His shirt is forgotten, he steps towards me and closes the gap between us. His fingers knead the back of my neck, softly, and he bites his lip for a moment—contemplating—before his lips crash down on mine.

The force of it makes me part my lips for him, and the tip of his tongue glides along my bottom lip. He's never kissed me like this, but I don't want him to stop.

Briefly our teeth clash, then he takes my face in his hands and his tongue slips past my teeth, meeting mine.

His tongue is soft, and his mouth tastes like mint. My hands rest on his hips, the bones dig into my palms through his jeans as I pull him closer to me. He feels so good, and safe. I don't believe he could ever hurt me—I don't think he believes that either. He was just scared.

The skin of his abdomen is bare beneath my hands, and warm through my shirt.

I laugh into his mouth when our teeth hit again and he smiles against my lips. It's awkward, and it's clumsy but somehow it feels perfect. This is the Tobias I know—the warm, sweet, and safe man, incapable of hurting me.

His hands are too gentle, and his smile is too kind to make him a monster. He is brave, and he is firm, strong, and stable. He is not the man he is afraid of. And I feel everything in the way he kisses me. Everything comes alive inside of me when Tobias holds me; there is no way he'd leave me feeling empty.

His teeth bite down gently on my bottom lip, and a pleasant shiver runs down my spine. He is sensual, and he is perfect to me.

I pull back to look at him. His eyelids are heavy, and his dark eyes glisten. They are so blue, and deep, like the ocean. His lips are wet from our kiss, and his skin is flushed.

"What?" He asks quietly. I rest my forehead on his, and smile.

"You're amazing," I whisper, touching his lips with my fingertips. He grins against them, and I see a flash of white through my fingers.

"_You're_ amazing," Tobias says, pecking my lips. "And beautiful," again, "and _mine_," again. And when he says it, it's not aggressively possessive or threatening. It's an endearment, and I believe him.

XxXxX

I stay awake, atop the quilt with Tobias sleeping soundly next to me. His body, once turned to me, now lays stretched out on his back.

I watch the rise and fall of his chest; the outlines of his ribs show through his shirt with each breath. I didn't want him to put his shirt back on, but I didn't tell him that either.

It's dark in the room, but I can still see a sliver of skin peeking out just above the waistline of his pants.

His arm, that was snug around my waist, now lays limp across it. It touches my stomach, from where my shirt is ruffled up, and I focus on the sparks that run like energy through a wire beneath my skin. I think about what it'd be like to have his hand on my ribs, trailing up my skin.

I think it'd be beautiful.

His lips are parted—he looks so young, so peaceful in sleep. I want to know what he's dreaming about, if he is. I don't want to wake him, but I reach up and brush some of his hair off his forehead.

His breaths ghost across my wrist, warm and light. I turn into his side more, and when I'm comfortable enough I feel myself beginning to fall into a deep sleep.

XxXxX

Something hard presses into my stomach when I wake up, and I realize it's his arm, still wrapped around my waist. Except I am laying on my stomach, instead of my side. My shirt is scrunched up, stopping just below my bra. The blanket chafes into my skin, and Tobias's fingers curl around the bend in my side.

I laugh, wondering how so much of my skin became exposed overnight. Tobias stirs beside me, and he peeks through his eyelashes at me. He smiles. "Good morning."

"Good morning," I say, propping myself up so I'm not resting all of my weight on his arm. His hands brushes my skin again, and he glances down.

He's staring at my bare stomach, and he purposefully places his hand over it, "is there a reason your shirt is up so high?" He teases.

"You tell me," I retort, grabbing the hem of my shirt to pull it down. He doesn't remove his hand just yet, letting the fabric cover it. "What time is it?"

Tobias glances over his shoulder, then says, "six-thirty." The sky is just a little lighter, but it's still quite dark in the room.

It's Tuesday. I sigh and sit up, "I should go," I say quietly. I don't want to, but I need to shower, and change. Tobias nods, and we make no move to get up at first.

After a few minutes, I push myself over to the edge and stand up. I grab my shoes but before I get too far, he grabs my wrist and pulls me back, pressing a kiss to my lips.

When I get back to the school, Christina is just waking up. We grab new clothes, while she presses me with questions, and then I head to the showers.

The water here isn't all that warm; I shower in cool water, shivering beneath the spray a few times. But the impression from his hand still clings to my abdomen, and my insides feel tepid.

I meet the others at breakfast, and Christina pushes her tray over with some food she grabbed for me.

"How's Four?" Uriah asks, speaking low so only I hear him.

"He's alright," I answer with a nod, "it took a little while though." He nods, slowly.

"Zeke was kinda worried about him—said he'd never seen Four so scared before." _Neither have I_. I want to say it, but I don't.

"He's alright," I say again. Uriah smiles a little, relieved and we join the others in their boisterous conversation.

XxXxX

That night, I head down to the pit with Uriah, Marlene, and Lynn. Tobias is working in the control room, under strict orders.

Eric is back. His jaw is still slightly swollen, but for the most part it looks somewhat normal. All under his chin is a deep purple color. He doesn't have any piercings back in his lip, and there's a scabbed over cut just above his eyebrow. His eye is black and blue—he actually looks scarier, tougher, than usual. His lips are pressed together in a tight line and he glares at me every time our eyes meet; I try not to glance in his direction often.

"Eric looks lethal," Marlene says; I nod, because she's right—he looks intimidating, which worries me a little bit. I _know_ I don't have to worry about Tobias, but I can't help but worry for myself: Eric knows how to push his buttons, that much is perfectly clear. There's nothing to say he won't try something else—that could be getting back at Tobias, by going at me.

"At least his face doesn't look so bad anymore," Lynn replies. I want to tell her to stop staring at him, but I know she won't listen to me. "God, Four really did a number on his face though... he looks almost normal without so many piercings."

Normal isn't the word I'd use, though I see what she means. You can actually focus on something other than all of the metal in his face.

I can practically feel his eyes boring into the back of my head.

"I wonder if he has any fights for tonight," Lynn says after a moment, "I kinda wanna chance in the ring." We give her an incredulous look. She shrugs, "what?"

"Are you insane?" Marlene asks, "after what just happened? Eric's gonna be tougher on all of us, just because we talk to Four."

"Hey, don't blame him," I say quickly, "Four didn't want to fight Eric... Eric egged him on." Lynn rolls her eyes at me, but otherwise doesn't comment. They don't know what Eric said to him—and if they do, I don't think they understand it much. I wish he would come down here, but I know he wouldn't think that was a good idea. Keeping his distance from Eric, for a while, is the best option.

"Quick to defend the boyfriend," Uriah jokes, and though I know he's just trying to lighten the mood I can't push the argument from my mind.

"Well, you know what Eric said," I say it low enough so only he hears me, and he nods. "Do they know, about his father?" I ask him. Uriah shakes his head.

"They only know that he and his father don't get along," he replies, "they don't know the worst of it all. They've never really thought to ask him on it, and you know he won't bring it up." I know he won't, and I wouldn't expect him to. I never thought I'd see him cry—not that he was incapable of being human, or that he's too tough, or too closed off to show emotion—I just never thought I'd see him so raw. It makes me wonder just how much trust he has in me to let me know about it; because I trust him. He felt safe enough to tell me about his father, and I could never use that against him. I could never be as cruel as Eric.

I try not to think too hard about what he told me; my stomach feels sick every time I think of how that person, who is supposed to be his father—is supposed to love him, and take care of them—finds nothing wrong with beating him until he can't lie down. I don't understand how he sees beating him at all is a good form of punishment; it's abuse. Especially when he has to lie about the new bruise around his eye, or his mouth. Or hide his anguish behind an obedient expression.

My parents disciplined Caleb and I when they had to, but it was never with their hands or strips of leather. They never treated us with cruelty; but they made their points known, how important it was that we give them respect, so they could give us it in return. Violence was frowned upon; Caleb and I never stepped out of line, or argued with each other over ridiculous things. We never really fought.

I can't imagine what Tobias goes through, living with those scars—physically, and mentally.

But he is always so well put together, it's almost like he never feared going home. Although, I understand why it's so crucial for him to try and forget, because he wants to be free from it all. I wonder if there are times he ever truly does feel free.


	15. Date

CHAPTER 15 — DATE

Over the next few days, Uriah and I head to the training room to meet up with Tobias, Zeke, and Shauna.

Shauna is determined to teach me how to fight—much to Tobias's reluctance to let me anywhere near the ring.

"You don't need to learn how to," he says, pleading with me.

"I'm not gonna kill her, sheesh," Shauna retorts, grabbing me by the shoulders; she leads me over to the mats and positions herself, "do exactly as I do." And I try my best to. She shows me where to hold my arms; I don't want her to go easy on me, I won't learn that way. She has to reposition my arms every couple of minutes, so that I'm blocking correctly.

"Make sure you protect your face," Tobias says, firmly, "and your stomach. Two of the worst places to get hit—you'll go down instantly."

I nod, but I forget to protect my stomach and Shauna's fist uppercuts me in the gut, sending me back a few feet. The air is lost from my body for a moment, as I clutch my waist.

Shauna taps my arm after a few seconds, "you alright?" I nod, and straighten up. "Good. First things first, you gotta learn to block. Like Four said—you'll go down instantly if somebody gets the first hit to your face, or gut."

We go again; Tobias tells me what he observes, and what I need to improve on, and Shauna keeps going with me until I've made a minor improvement. She managed to get my jaw a few times, and my stomach again—my face stings, and I can imagine the bruise that's forming.

"Not bad," she says, wiping the sweat from her forehead, "you'll definitely need some more work but for the most part you won't need to break any bad habits. As far as we know."

She nods at Tobias and steps down from the mat. I join him at the side and he places his hand over the tender skin. It only hurts a little.

"This is why I don't want you fighting," he says quietly, "I don't like seeing you hurt. And you won't be fighting anybody." It's not an order, or a demand, but mere worry.

I place my hand over his, an say, "maybe not, but it doesn't hurt to know how." Tobias doesn't argue.

"Let's get you some ice." We head back to his apartment; and he grabs an ice pack, gently pressing it to my jaw. The cold feels nice, numbing the slight pain. "You're gonna be swollen."

"I'll be fine," I promise, stretching up on my toes to kiss him. He kisses me back, squeezing my hips in his hands, and I sigh against his lips.

"Are you staying tonight?"

"I don't think Christina would mind my absence," I say, draping my arms around his neck. Tobias smiles, pressing his lips to the underside of my jaw; I barely feel the throb of pain as I focus on him.

XxXxX

For the next few days, I rarely see Tobias. Tori decided that it's best for Eric to stay out in the pit and him to stay in the control room—none of us disagreed; Tobias doesn't want another fight, and Eric's pride is still wounded.

I still train with Shauna; I've improved, however, she has still gotten far more hits in than me. Another one to the side of my head, and a knee to the ribs.

Although, I did get her with my elbow and knee once or twice—she says I need to learn to use them more, because they would be my advantage. I have the most strength there.

My legs ache with exhaustion when I meet the others for dinner. When I walk, the throbbing pulses behind my calfs, and my thighs. My arms are sore too—Tobias would be telling me to take a break.

"What took you so long?" Lynn asks when I sit down. The edge of the chair presses into my sore muscles and I almost laugh at how relieving it feels—using pain, to stop pain.

"Training with Shauna," I answer; my stomach growls, quite loudly, but not enough to be heard over the sounds of the cafeteria.

"She's kicking your butt," she grins, I agree with a nod. After a moment, I feel a tap on my shoulder and Christina sits in the chair next to me, with Will on the other side of her.

"Tell Four I'm stealing you back," she says, "it's too quiet in the dorm." But she smirks at me, and I laugh.

"I'll try," I say.

"Unless you two are doing push-ups on his bed, I want my roommate back." My face heats up and I smack her arm, hard.

"Christina—!"

The others laugh quietly down at their trays, while I glare at Christina; she grins, "you know, you punch harder than you think—and besides," she lowers her voice for me and says, "sex is not bad."

"Easy for you to say," I retort, motioning towards Will, "you two have already done it."

Christina's mouth drops open slightly, amused, and she asks, "well have you talked to Four about it?"

"Kind of," I answer, but it comes out like a whine.

"And?"

"Do I really have to answer that here?" I ask. Christina stands up then, pulling me up with her. Without an explanation, we leave the cafeteria, with the others watching us as we go. She stops when we reach the bathrooms, and checks to make sure it's only us.

"And?"

I sigh, "we said we'd wait until we were sure... but I don't know when 'sure' is."

"You will," Christina promises, with a smile. "It's longer for others, and sometimes it's quicker. Will and I have been together for two and a half years now—I'd say that's pretty good." I nod.

After a few seconds, I say "Four is also nineteen. I'm only seventeen."

"Well, you'll be eighteen soon," Christina points out, "then it won't be a problem. Don't worry so much about it, okay? I'm only joking with you when I say things like that."

"I know—," I shake my head, "—it's not normal for me, though."

"I have to ask," she says, "do you even know how sex works?" My skin feels warm again.

"A little," I say, "I know the basics, I guess..."

"Well, if you're ever unsure you can ask me you know." She smiles, rubbing my arm, "I may not be the expert, but I do know quite a few things. And I think it would be easier for you to ask me than say...your parents, or Four."

"Okay," she pulls me into a tight hug, causing my sore muscles to scream in pain. When she releases me, we head back to the cafeteria and finish dinner.

XxXxX

Uriah, Marlene, Lynn, Christina, Will, Al, and I all go down to the pit for the fights that night. When we get there, the main area is practically packed tight. Eric stands on the elevated platform just in the middle of the room, scanning the crowd that's gathering.

He spots our group, and his eyes land on me first—with a hard glare—before moving on. He points to Lynn, who looks a little too eager to fight, and she steps into the ring.

He points at Edward, who won the last fight, and he joins Lynn in the middle.

Edward is tall—Lynn looks small compared to him. He has broad shoulders, but still holds a lanky build. Lynn is not as muscular as he is, but her size might be her advantage.

Eric tells them to start, and Lynn dodges the first attack—she manages to jerk her knee into the side of his leg, but it barely fazes him. Edward swings again, hitting Lynn in jaw.

Her head is thrown back by the force of it. She spits out blood, but recovers quickly with the twitch of her neck and blocks.

There's a split in her lip now.

She swings up, landing an uppercut between his ribcage, hard. Edward coughs on air a moment, and then he grabs Lynn by the waist and tosses her down across the arena.

Lynn lands on her knees, and it looks painful but she gets up and attempts a swipe kick at the back of his legs. He nearly falls, and he's determined to win but she grabs him by the shoulders and kick off the ground.

She manages to curl her leg around the back of his neck, bringing them both down. Edward lands on his stomach, with a breathless gasp and tries to grab at her.

Lynn pins him down, getting hits in at his face, his throat—blood springs from his nose, dripping down his pale skin. When Lynn pulls back to hit him again, his blood stains her knuckles.

Edward manages to swing up, connecting with Lynn's throat. She chokes for air, and he almost manages to throw her off. Lynn smacks him on the side of the head with the palm of her hand and he clutches his ear with a painful yelp.

She gets the last few hits in, and Edward's face is caked in blood before he finally goes unconscious. Marlene and Uriah pull her away before she can try again; Lynn has nothing against him, as far as I know, but she's in it to win.

Her knuckles are bright red, already beginning to bruise, and covered in Edward's blood. Her hair, that was once up in a messy pull, now hangs loosely on the side of her head. There is blood on her chin from the first hit he got at her—she wipes it into the back of her wrist.

"Our new winner: Lynn." Eric announces; the room erupts into loud cheers and echoes of too many words I can't pick up.

Lynn shakes her hands out, and cracks her knuckles, as she stands victoriously beside Eric. "Who do I fight next?" She asks. Her forehead, and torso glisten under the blue lamps but she doesn't look tired yet.

"Hmm..." Eric scans over the crowd again, like an animal overlooking it's prey. He wants someone who is either weak enough to keep Lynn in her place for the next week, or someone strong enough to keep her on the ground.

He spots Molly, and selects her from the crowd. Lynn wins fairly quickly, with a few kicks to Molly's ribs. I wonder if she learned all this from her sister.

Tobias steals me from the others a little while later; we sneak through the back hallways and stop just before the corridor to the apartments. I'm curious about what we're doing, when his hands rest on my waist and he pushes me back against the wall, gently.

"Hi," he says, staring down at me with a crooked grin. My stomach feels like somebody is stirring my insides with a fork, as his hands slide up to my waist.

"Hi," I smile, never looking away. Tobias leans down after a few seconds, capturing my lips with his in a hungry kiss. His hands smooth down my arms until they reach mine, and he closes the gap between our palms.

He brings my hands up then, around his neck and his fingers tighten on my hips again—he lifts me up, so the wall bears most of my weight.

My body feels weak, with his hands on me and thoughts running through my mind. Faintly, his mouth tastes like alcohol but this is him sober, I know it is.

His tongue fights with mine, playfully, and he hums against my lips. He feels good, pressed up against my body like this.

As if out of instinct, to make it easier, my legs wrap around his waist, pulling his closer than I ever imagined. Warmth fills my stomach, and Tobias pulls back to rest his forehead on mine.

"You're making it hard to be wise, Tris." And in that moment, I'm not sure I care. But he just holds me, letting only his fingertips slide beneath my shirt. My skin is on fire, and I want him closer, but that also scares me.

When my breathing evens out again, I untangle myself from him and lean against the wall so my legs don't give out. They were sore before; they're more sore now, "sorry."

Tobias smirks, placing his hand on the small of my back, "don't be sorry about that," we walk down an empty corridor, and he tells me about what it's like to work with Zeke in the control room, while I tell him about Lynn's fights.

Tobias laughs, "that was the only time Zeke kept one screen up," he replies.

"Remind me never to take her on," I say.

"I wouldn't even try." He shakes his head, "not after watching that. Lynn fights mean."

The sound of our footsteps echoes off the walls, as we walk further away from the main area. This hallway is one of the longer ones, breaking into two separate directions at the end. I've only been down this hallway, maybe, twice. I peer over at Tobias for a second; his expression is calm, like he's thinking of something. We pass the hallway to his apartment, and I ask, "Where are we going?"

"Well," Tobias takes my hand in his, "_we_ have not been on a proper date."

"Hmm yes, beating the crap out of somebody and then being shut away to a control room can limit a person's dating." He laughs, and pulls me closer to his side. At least his mood seems to be better since it happened―we can laugh about it.

"Okay, smart-mouth," he grins, placing his hands on my shoulders, and squeezing playfully, "tell me, where do you think we're going?" I look around us, as we walk down a barely lit corridor. At the far end, the faint blue-white glow looks haunting.

"Uh..."

"Think about it," Tobias says quietly. And I do―the first time we met, Eric was cornering me in a back hallway. And the first time we kissed, _was the net_.

"Are we going up to the net?" I ask. Tobias grins, and he reaches into his pocket, retrieving a silver flask. I eye it, for a few seconds, and shake my head with a smirk.

"Only if you want to," he says, shaking the contents inside. It sounds full.

"It's not that gross beer again, is it?"

"Something that cheap?" He teases, unscrewing the cap. He takes a sip, and shakes his head, "no. I stole something better."

"Stole?"

"Zeke won't notice," Tobias smirks; he offers me the flask, and I take it, putting the neck up to my lips. It smells sweet; I take the first sip and it bubbles in my mouth. It's not a particularly hard drink to swallow, but it's a little rough. It tastes like apple.

"What is this?" I ask.

"Champagne," he answers, "Zeke has a bunch of different drinks stocked up. Though this has a low concentration."

"So we're drinking wine? Hmm, how fancy we are," I joke. "It's definitely an improvement from beer," he nods, and closes it back up.

"And you're right, by the way. I though, maybe I could show off my knowledge of the compound―,"

"―I think you've established that," I smirk.

"―exactly, and afterwards we would make out by the chasm," I laugh, and Tobias smiles, "but then I thought, a second chance at that night sounds better. Wouldn't you agree?" I nod, feeling the corners of my lips turn into a grin.

We get up the stairs, and the only source of light comes from the hole above us. Tobias lifts me up and I roll into the middle of the net. He hoists himself up next, and I watch the tendons in his hands jump and relax with each grip.

The net dips down more with his weight, until he's sitting in front of me. I reach for his hand; the tips of his fingers tickle the palm of my hand and I shiver with delight.

"Twenty questions, or a more sophisticated game?"

"What's 'a more sophisticated game'?" He asks, amused. I shrug, letting out a small laugh.

"I don't know... guess what color underwear I'm wearing?" I joke.

"That is not sophisticated," he smirks. Then he gets a serious look on his face, and says, "blue."

"I wasn't being serious," I say, feeling my face heat up. Tobias laughs.

"Well, I am," he says.

"Well, you're wrong," I retort, shaking my head. He plays with my fingers, twisting them around his for a moment.

"White."

"Tobias―" I warn.

"―black."

"I'm not telling you!" I say, embarrassed. I flatten my hands on the backs of his and Tobias leans forward, kissing my forehead.

"Then show me," I know he's joking, but I punch his arm and he leans back, laughing hysterically, "I'm joking, Tris."

I try to feign anger, though I can't help but laugh with him after a moment, "you're a jerk."

"Well I'm not the nicest," he agrees, lifting my chin up. His eyes, even in the dark, are an entrancing blue. His voice is soft, he asks, "do you still like me?"

I sigh, smiling, "of course I do." Tobias presses a kiss to my nose, and then to my lips. My lips part for him, and we share a warm breath, before he covers mine completely and my stomach twists with a longing ache.

His hands rest on my waist, with his fingertips just beneath the hem of my shirt; I pull him closer to my body, and his arms catch himself by the side of my head so the force of his weight doesn't crush me.

"Not bad for a first date," I say against his mouth. Tobias smiles, and bites down on my bottom lip, gently.

"It's the best one I've been on," he whispers, gliding his nose along my jaw. His fingers lightly squeeze my waist, and I grin, before pressing a kiss his temple. "And I must ask, what color?" It takes me a moment to realize what he's asking, and then I grin.

"Just shut up and kiss me."


	16. Fighter

**A/N: I apologize for the delay, I have had a very busy week! I went to Boston yesterday, so I was not able to update at all. I love all of your reviews! Your kindness means the world to me, and your patience with me is unwavering! Thank you so much! **

CHAPTER 16 – FIGHTER

I train with Shauna again, coming out with only a few scrapes, scratches, and bruises. I took her elbow to my jaw earlier in the week, though it's healing. It doesn't look as bad as it was.

I drop down onto my bed, bouncing with the mattress and let out a pained moan. Christina laughs, patting my back, "tough session?"

"Shauna kicked my butt again," I sigh, "and my muscles are screaming." My stomach feels tight, from the constant tension I keep and the numerous hits to my gut. There's a constant throbbing just beneath my ribcage, sharp and unrelenting.

"Want some ice?" She asks.

"Please," I say.

Christina stands up from the bed, "how are you doing, so far?"

"Shauna says I'm improving..."

"Well that's good," Christina says, smiling, "maybe you'll be strong enough to take Peter on." I laugh, shaking my head.

"I doubt it. My one-ten to his one-seventy, give or take, would prove fatal." I drop my head down onto my pillow, willing my forming headache to go away. My arms are too tired to lift to try and relieve the pain myself, so the power of suggestion is all I've got right now. "I would only refuel his ego."

"Aw come on, you're small enough," she replies, "I mean, Lynn took down a six-foot, one-hundred and sixty pound boy. You could do it."

"Lynn fights dirty," I say, "she's scrappy."

"Take lessons from her then."

"Uh, definitely not!" I prop myself up to look at her, "I don't plan on swallowing my teeth anytime soon."

"She didn't knock his teeth out."

"She chipped a few," I retort. Christina rolls her eyes at me, and sits down on her bed.

"Chipped...whatever, he didn't lose any." I shake my head, and lie back down. My mattress feels too hard, and it doesn't smell like Tobias. There is no indentation that matches his body, or sunlight streaming in over the bed. I sigh, and try to get comfortable.

Christina looks at me, with a strange expression, "don't look so happy," she says, sarcastically. I give her a look, and she smirks. "I think you can last a night without sleeping in Four's bed."

"Easy for you to say," I mumble; there is no heavy, sweet, musky smell that fills my nose and I find myself highly disappointed. I don't even have his sweater anymore.

"Isn't he working late?" She asks. I nod, and stretch out on my stomach, determined to fall asleep. Christina shakes her head at me, "I'll come back with ice."

XxXxX

I sleep better than I expect to, but wake up disappointed to find the room is cold. Christina sleeps soundly in her bed, with her hair sticking up across the pillow. I sit up, wincing at the tight pain in my ribs, and throw the blanket off my body.

The ice pack melted hours ago, and falls off the bed with a slushy thud at my feet. The clock beside Christina's bed reads just after four in the morning.

The window is open, letting all of the cold air into our room. _It's the middle of November, Chris..._ we usually never leave the windows open. I sigh, stand up, feeling my bones pop their stiffness out, and walk over to close it.

My body is still sore, mostly in my legs and my ribs.

I can't go back to sleep, I'm wide awake now. I decide to get dressed and go for a walk. I pull my hood up over my head, bury my hands deep in my pockets to keep them warm, and head out of the dorm building to the streets.

It's not a cold, now that I'm dressed a little warmer. I keep my eyes ahead; the city is mostly quiet, aside from the few cars that pass by me, and the other individuals who seem to be just as awake as me.

I wonder if Tobias is out right now, or if he's actually getting sleep for once. If he is, he's probably down at Navy Pier. I don't know if I walk, in hopes, that he's there, or in knowledge that he is but my feet carry me towards the pier.

When I reach it, it looks void of all life. I expected to see him, standing by the water but instead I stare at an empty dock lit only by nearby building lights. The water moves in quiet ripples from the wind. I pull my hood down and my hair blows around my face and neck almost instantly. The cold feels good on my face.

The sky is lighter than it was when I left the dorm, it's not a light shade of blue, with some purple peaking above the buildings. I know I should head back, since Christina will probably confront me and ask me if I went to see him, but it's nice here.

After a few minutes, I do. My watch says it's almost five thirty, and when I return to the dorm Christina stirs awake—she notices my clothes, and shakes her head, "—before you say anything, I just went for a walk."

"With Four?" She asks.

"Are you really gonna act all parent with me?" I groan, plopping down on my bed. "And no, I was by myself."

"I don't mind if you see him. I just want my friend back from time to time."

"You still see me," I say. Christina stifles a large yawn into her arm; her ribs stick out beneath the fabric of her shirt as it reaches her gut.

"The only reason I don't stay with Will every night is because of the school rules. They've got like a sixth sense with that—it's like they just know when you do that stuff."

"Yet, she still doesn't know about your night in the deserted classroom?" I ask. Christina shrugs.

"Well, not much I can do if she knows—I don't think it would bother me." I give her an incredulous look. "What? It wouldn't."

"You wouldn't be embarrassed if somebody knew you...did that?" She laughs slightly, shaking her head.

"Guess not." She sits up more, "it's only natural—I mean, we're not the only teenagers who have ever done it. At this school, especially." I feel my face heat up—I think about Tobias, and all that we've talked about.

I want him, more than I ever believed was humanly possible. And unlike Christina and Will, I'm not sure I want to wait so long—not because I only want to know what it's like, but also because I've established a significant amount of trust in him that comes into light, more and more each day.

That's not to say I'm not uncertain or not scared by any of this. But I remember Christina telling me sometimes it happens quicker than others—I can't help but wonder if Tobias feels the same way.

"Can we just go get breakfast?" I ask. She smirks at me, and then rises from her bed. I head out to take a shower, and then I meet Christina and the others in the cafeteria.

XxXxX

Pain surges through my jaw, and my teeth bite down on my tongue—I blink away the tears forming in my eyes and stand back up, disoriented. "You alright?" Shauna asks, grabbing my shoulders to steady me. I can only manage a nod. "You gotta learn to block."

"I know," I groan through my teeth. "Let's go again."

"_Maybe_ you should take a break," she suggests, giving me an insistent look. "You can't master anything by straining yourself. It certainly won't improve any quicker that way."

"You sound like Four," I mutter. Shauna grins, mischievously.

"Who do you think I learned from?" I don't expect that answer; Tobias doesn't seem like he'd fight a girl—he shows too much respect towards women for that, from what I've seen and experienced firsthand. He doesn't stick around when Shauna and I go. He doesn't seem like a fighter much, either. His silence and observation are his two strongest weapons, I've noticed. Tobias is deft—meant and built for fighting, but rarely ever possesses the motivation to do so. "Surprised?"

"A little bit," I say with a nod.

"It took me weeks to convince him to actually hit me," Shauna smirks, "I couldn't learn properly until he did. He was afraid of hurting me, except now I can actually take a punch."

"He hit you—?"

Shauna's eyes widen a moment, and she shakes her head, "—he wouldn't hit you!" She says quickly, "I just mean, you know...it was what I needed him to do, so I could learn." It wasn't the conclusion I jumped to, but I appreciate the reassurance.

"I don't believe he would," I bite my lip; it's a little awkward now, "I just thought, that even through all the convincing, he would have still disregarded your permission." Shauna laughs a little, embarrassed, and nods.

"Yeah," she says, "I thought he would too. But I'm glad he didn't; I learned much quicker."

"Can we go again?" I ask. She rolls her eyes at me, and sighs.

"Fine. But after this round, we're done for today. You need the rest," I nod, and get into position. Shauna throws the first punch, and I successfully block it. I feel a swell of triumph in my chest, but it's cut short when I'm too slow to block the kick to my side.

Shauna stops, giving me an observational once-over, "I'm gonna try something; before I throw a punch, or a kick, I'm gonna yell 'block'. It's your responsibility to listen to me, and react—don't think, _react_. I'm gonna go in a pattern first, so you get a feel for it and know where to block. And when I think you've got it down, I'm gonna change it up; you'll have to watch my movements."

For a few minutes, she still catches me. After another couple of tries, we fall into a rhythm; she punches twice, and kicks once. I block each hit successfully, and Shauna changes—it's no longer a pattern, now she throws all sorts of hits in, like in real combat.

I'm not as triumphant this time around, but I watch her and I notice things. Unlike Lynn, she doesn't step when she punches; Shauna throws her body into it, she springs up. The fist she goes to punch with, her fingers clench tighter beforehand. The leg she kicks with, she steps back first to throw more force in.

Her movements are stealth, quick, and powerful. I have been able to keep up with her, but only for so long. We go until my muscles ache with exertion, and my skin glistens with sweat. "You did much better today," Shauna praises, "more work, more rest, more improvement, more results." She lists it like a mantra, and it sticks in my head as I leave the training room and head back to the school.

XxXxX

The first fighter of the night is out. She tries to push herself back up, but Peter steps on the small of her back, hard, and keeps her down. Blood seeps into the white of her shirt, and drips down her lips, and chin. Eric has her dragged from the arena.

Peter stands, victorious, with his ego inflated and his bravado as arrogant as ever.

He has yet to lose these last few fights—he took Lynn out a few days ago; she now scowls, and sulks all day long, planning her revenge against him. I can't imagine how she's feeling.

"I liked him better when he could barely walk straight," Uriah says, shaking his head, "he's back to his old self now."

"Just what we needed," I mutter sarcastically.

"I'd love to see him get his ass kicked again," he replies, "for Lynn." I nod. Eric picks a scrawny looking boy as Peter's next opponent; he's picking them deliberately, to keep Peter in the number one spot.

Peter is ruthless, and merciless on this poor boy. He attempts to get hits in, left and right, though I'm quite impressed with the boy; he's managed to stay up, and alert for well over ten minutes. But Peter gets the final uppercut to the underside of his jaw, and he's down. His head hits the ground, hard, and he winces before his eyes close and his body slumps.

If I didn't know any better, I would assume he was dead.

But he groans in pain when he's picked up and carried from the arena. Eric looks over the crowd, weighing his options. He and Peter share a brief glance, all too knowing, and then Eric looks straight at me.

Fear has never been so consuming. My gut drops, like a ten ton weight has just fallen from hundreds of feet, and my body goes cold. Eric points to me, and the boisterous cheers and howls erupt all around me. But they're drowned out, like we're in a tunnel, by the loud rush of adrenaline in my bloodstream, echoing in my ears.

I don't want to fight Peter. Anyone but Peter. I'll even fight Lynn, and give her spot back. _Anyone_ but Peter!

Uriah stands in front of me, like a wall of protection. However, arms and hands of rowdy teenagers shove me forward, into the arena.

But then I think of how I see him; he's a coward. And I think of Lynn, and how self-resentful she is that she lost to him. I have to fight Peter. Not for power, or for revenge; but to show him that _he_ does not hold power over me, or Lynn, or any of us.

I don't think about if I lose; I don't think I'll win, either. But I have to try.

My muscles are no longer rigid, I find the will in myself to move forward. We stand beneath the light that illuminates our stage, and position myself. Hopefully Shauna's training has done me well—this is not a test of strength; strength is a perk. This is a test of skill, and reactivity. I have to watch him, and I have to look for my way in.

"Aw. You look like you're about to cry, Stiff," Peter taunts, "I might go easier on you if you cry." _Fat chance_. I bite my tongue; if I respond, it'll only egg him on.

He almost catches me, unprepared. His first punch hits my shoulder, right on a sore muscle and the groan is out before I can hide it. Peter smirks, an ugly, evil grin, and the next hit is directed toward my face; I don't block him in time, and his knuckles connect with my jaw.

The amount of pain I feel cannot be real. But it is. Tears blur my vision, and I blink them away as quickly as I can. I see Peter's outline pull back again, and this time I duck just in time to avoid another hit to the face.

He sends another uppercut directly after, connecting with my nose. I feel more pain, and then warmth dripping down my face. My fingers are covered in blood within seconds, and my face stings. My teeth caught my lip, and his force caused my nose to bleed. There is so much blood, it's almost alarming.

He lets out a frustrated growl; I know it's because I'm still standing. His knee jerks up, hitting the bend in my waist. It sends a stab of agony through my body, and I'm thrown sideways, almost off my feet.

I am losing.

I can't breathe. I lost all air from that hit, and I struggle to regain it. I swing forward, recklessly, but my fist hits air and then his fingers wrap around my wrist, roughly. I want to recoil the moment he touches me, disgusted by his calloused, unkind hands. Peter's grip on my arm gives him all the power he needs, and he yanks me forward. I am falling, and a sharp pain shoots through my shoulder. He releases me at the last second, and I land unceremoniously in a heap of limbs. My hands don't catch me, the mat is like ice against my face.

Do I have the strength to stand back up? Or better yet, do I have the motivation to stand back up? I don't know.

I want to give up. I can't beat Peter—it might not be impossible, but right now it surely feels like it. I can hear my friends, shouting at me to stand up but I don't want to. I am in pain, and there is no drive to continue. I will fail; giving up is failure, but getting up to keep getting hurt is short of masochism.

I stay down.

And that is my mistake. Because Peter throws a kick to the side of my head and blackness eats away at the corners of my vision. My head throbs, it feels heavy. I see Peter pull back once more, and another kick connects with my head. Blackness consumes me, and I don't try to stay above the surface.

XxXxX

I only remember, vaguely, being dragged out of the arena. My body feels heavy, and limp; I cannot move. There is a large ice pack at my side, by my ribs where I was kicked, and a coldness seeps into the side of my head and jaw.

Pain rushes through my body as I try to sit up, but I am stopped by two large, gentle hands. I turn my head to see Tobias sitting beside me, with a deep scowl on his face. My heart leaps in my throat—I don't think I want to know what he's thinking.

He looks angry, but I can't tell if it's directed towards me, or the current status of my situation. The silence is deafening. I turn away from him, and look up at the ceiling. My teeth bite down on my lip, and I wince at the sting; a small whimper escapes my throat.

"How long have I been out?" I ask. My voice is scratchy, and hoarse; my throat is dry.

"A few hours," he answers, gruffly. His thumb strokes my cheekbone, idly. I can feel his eyes boring into the side of my face, "Eric has a lot of nerve..."

"That had nothing to do with you fighti—,"

"—It didn't?" Tobias asks, tersely. I don't believe, originally, that it did. But now, I guess it is a contributing factor. Eric wants to hurt him, I know that. And the strongest way to hurt Tobias, is an emotional blow. Like getting to me.

"I think he and Peter had this planned beforehand," I reply, keeping my voice low.

"What makes you say that?"

"The way Eric has watched us like a hawk around the pit..." I answer, "and just how much Peter hates me, for no reason. Maybe there was no reason, other than to hurt us." It hurts to shrug, and when I do I regret it.

"This was cruel," he whispers, his fingers brushing over my forming bruises.

"They're not the nicest," I murmur. I ignore the agonizing protests of my screaming muscles and reach up to cover his hand with mine.

"Why didn't you just stay back?" He asks, shaking his head slowly, "you wouldn't be here right now. You wouldn't be in pain...you wouldn't have bruises, or cuts."

"Well, I do," I say, more firmly than I mean to, "and it's over with. You can be a coward, or you can be a fighter. I wasn't going to back down."

"Sometimes, there's more bravery in walking away, Tris," Tobias retorts, staring at me so intently my stomach twists under his gaze. His thumb brushes across my lip, over the split. His touch stings the wound, despite how gentle he tries to be, and I realize he's right.

I sigh, "you're right." He stares at me, blankly, for a few seconds, but then the corners of his lips twitch.

"You're actually agreeing with me?"

"I don't have the energy to argue with you anymore tonight," I answer, defeated. Tobias nods once, and we sit in silence; his fingers brush my hair away from my face, and their coolness soothes my headache. He presses his lips to my temple, softly, and he sighs against my skin.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, careful not to touch the bruise when he cups my jaw, "I shouldn't be chastising you." But I'm conflicted—because I don't want to be chastised, but I feel like it's the correct reaction, that I should have walked away.

"I don't want to stay here," I say, quietly. The cot digs into my back, and the room smells like alcohol wipes; it's overwhelming, and unsettling. "Can we go to your apartment?"

"Can you move?" Tobias asks. I don't know, but if it means getting out of here I can.

"I think so." He grips my shoulder, and helps me to sit up. His hand rests on the small of my back as I stand. Pain surges through my body, rough but quick. My knees shake beneath me, but Tobias keeps me steady.

I am asleep the moment my head hits his pillow.


	17. Battlefield

**A/N: I have been working with a close friend (who, unfortunately, wishes for her name to remain anonymous even though she is a flawless writer/author) and we have come up with quite a daring and beautiful scene (if I do say so myself). I love how it has come out so far and I really hate that I can't post it yet! But I couldn't keep that in any longer, I had to say something. I am super excited and hoping that it'll be up soon; I have a strong feeling you will all love it. **

CHAPTER 17 – BATTLEFIELD

When I observe the damage Peter has done, the next morning, I barely recognize myself. There is a large, blueish, purple bruise that runs from the top of my cheekbone, down to my jawline. The split in my lip looks bigger than it feels.

My face is swollen, around my nose where he punched me and my jaw where I was kicked. There's a bump on the back of my head, as well.

Tobias stands behind me, in the doorway of the bathroom, frowning. Our eyes meet in the mirror for a moment, before I look away. "It's not that bad," I say.

"Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?" He asks. I don't know. I sigh, and return the ice pack to my face. The cold burns my skin, but it numbs it enough that I can barely feel it after a few seconds. I turn towards him, meeting his eyes.

"Myself, probably," I answer flatly. "It looks bad, doesn't it?"

Tobias shrugs, and brings his hand up to touch my face, careful to avoid the bruise. "Well, I've seen _worse_... but it's pretty bad. You should have just walked away—,"

"—apparently I should have done a lot of things," I say irritably. I walk past him, out of the room, and sit down in one of the chairs by the counter, "you don't have to keep telling me that." I don't want to be aggravated with him, but I am.

He's frustrated with me, too.

"Well, maybe you should start listening to me then."

"It was my choice," I argue, "I could have fought him, or walked away, and I chose to fight."

"You didn't need to," he responds, terse. I glare at him, and he glares back; we're not dogs, but to look away would be submissive. Which I'm not about to prove to him.

"So you can fight Eric, because you were provoked. But I can't fight Peter, because I was?" The look Tobias gives me is hard, like he could turn me into stone. I know I struck a chord; his situation was different, reason-wise. But we both tried to fight our provokers, only difference is I lost.

"I don't want to see you get your face kicked in, again," he says firmly; his body is tense, his hands are clenched at his sides. I see the muscle in his cheek jump as he bites down to keep himself calm.

"He did not kick my face in," I protest, "And news flash: I don't like seeing you with blood covering your knuckles, either." He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in aggravation.

"Did you even look at yourself in the mirror, Tris? Clearly?" I did; she moved like me, and sounded like me. But she didn't look like me. "Right now, your face is black and blue, and swollen. You got kicked in the head, _twice_ last night. And punched in the nose—surprisingly, nothing is broken."

"I can take a punch, then—,"

"—I'm getting a little tired of waiting for you to catch on, Tris," he says, exasperated. I open my mouth, ready to protest when he repeats, "I don't like seeing you hurt. Nobody should ever touch you like that," his voice is low, and he speaks slowly, as though I'm not understanding him. His concern is almost stifling; it's not the first kick, or punch I've ever taken. Why this is so different, I can't understand.

"It'll heal," I say quietly.

"And when it does, do you plan on fighting Peter again?" The edge in his voice is unwavering. "Do you plan on showing him that he can do this again?" I'm on my feet, standing in front of him.

"I'm not a child," I tell him, harshly. I jab my finger into his chest, as though it'll get my point across, "Stop scolding me like I am one—!"

"—It's because you don't get it—!" Tobias yells.

"—What don't I get?" I scream, wrenching my hand away when he goes to stop me. We stare at each other, practically face to face; neither one of us plans to back down, but I step away from him to give myself the room to breathe. I didn't realize how close we had gotten, ready to jump down each other's throats with the next accusation or question.

His eyes soften for a moment, when I move. He exhales, roughly, and bites the inside of his cheek in silence. He speaks, evenly, "Do you remember what I told you, after the incident with Eric? About my mother?"

I swallow my anger, "Of course I do."

"I watched my mother get hurt, at the hands of my own father, Tris. I've seen my mother bleed, almost to the point where I didn't think it'd ever stop. I've watched her fall to her knees, and give up. My father was supposed to love my mother, not abuse her. I saw the same compulsion in Peter's expression, hitting you, that my father had every time he beat my mother, or even me. My father was supposed to be a man, not a monster—he's a coward, just like Peter. I refuse to watch you get hurt, especially by somebody who's supposed to be a man. Peter is sick; men are not supposed to hit women, Tris. Okay? My mother taught me that—she made sure I learned that. No matter if the fights are supposed to be for entertainment, or if you chose to fight in it."

My heart throbs, painfully, in my chest. It should have been obvious—he cares about me, like he cared about his mother. And here, I nearly accused him of having no reason for his anger because I am too prideful to admit vulnerability.

My teeth dig into my lip, "I'm sorry," I say, touching my fingertips to the tender skin of my jaw. "I hadn't thought about that." Tobias nods, but not in a condescending way.

"The thing I hate the most, is this feeling like I expect everybody to understand it," it's one of the most heartbreaking things he's ever said to me; in a way, I understand why he feels that way. We come from different worlds; I was raised by two parents, who set good examples. He was raised by two parents, and then one, who did not set good examples. His expectations were set much higher, more stricter than mine.

My voice shakes, "I can't imagine the war you live with inside your head," I say carefully, "and I'm not about to leave you alone on the battlefield. I won't fight Peter again." But I'm not sure how much truth is behind my statement. I can't call it a promise, because part of me only says I won't to comfort him, determined to find a way around that promise and put Peter in his place. Because fear, and disappointed, and losing have never shut me down before. The other half of me says it, because I believe that I won't. The only thing I don't know, is which side of me will win.

If I fight him again, I hurt Tobias and potentially myself if I lose. If I don't fight him, Tobias stays happy and I stifle the need to stand up and fight for myself. Winning is not worth losing him.

"Promise?" He asks.

"Promise." I say, a thick swallow chokes.

And something hits me, hard; another revelation. One I don't expect, and can't quite understand, which only leaves me in another dead end of how to express my feelings for him. He only breaks down for me, and I for him; we break each other down, like metal mixed with chemical. We react with each other—when it seems like weakness, when we tell each other these things, we only become stronger.

And I'm afraid that that makes me even more dependent on him. That I cannot be strong without him; and I want to believe that he is strong without me, but he lives with fears inside his head that I can only imagine, they try to destroy him. He puts trust in me to know these dark secrets, and when he tells me he's giving me a piece of him to hold on to.

He has given me more of him, than I could ever repay.

And if this is sobriety in our little world of confusing feelings, I can't imagine what being drunk is like. What would it be like to give all of myself to someone else? Is that the strongest form of vulnerability there is? Is that the strongest form of fear, that could ultimately give me the fullest sense of strength?

XxXxX

Christina drags me to the pit that night, despite my protests and my whining. My headache has not gone away since the argument between Tobias and I, but I only let Christina talk me into going because I actually want to drink. Questions have assaulted my mind all day—I don't know how to answer them.

He breaks me down every single day, but there is still so much to chip away at; most of which, I have yet to figure out, myself. It's frightening, having someone else try and figure you out when you don't even know about yourself—it's even scarier, that they might know more than you do.

Tobias stands at the chasm, surrounded by a group of people. Zeke says something, that has them all in stitches, and my judgment tells me it has something to do with the bottles most of them are holding. Tobias included—we must have had the same idea. Fighting with him has left me feeling drained. I leave Christina's side, in search of something strong.

Eric watches me rigid movements, with a malicious grin. He twists the new set of bars through his eyebrow as his eyes follow me; I feel like I need a shower, to wash away the dirty look—all because I lost, he'll never stop treating me like I'm weak.

I feel somebody grab my arm, and I nearly jump out of my skin—I think it's Peter for a moment, until I turn to see Uriah, offering me an apologetic grin, "you okay?" He asks.

"I'm fine..." I answer, too quickly, "why?"

He looks uncomfortable then, and says, "Marlene and I heard you and Four arguing earlier." My throat closes up. Despite the secluded hallway his apartment resides in, his door isn't soundproof. I guess it doesn't surprise me that we were heard; though we didn't expect anyone to be down in that hallway this morning either.

"We're fine," I say, with a firm nod. It's not the first time we've fought—I don't expect it to be the last, and I certainly don't want another argument like that one. I'm not sure how much I could tell him; I don't even know how much they heard, or what. It's too personal, to both Tobias, and me, to tell somebody—even if that somebody is Uriah. "It was more of a misunderstanding, on my part."

Uriah grins, "so I don't have to beat him up for you?" My laugh comes out easily, lighter than I expect it to, and I shake my head.

"No," I answer, "you don't have too."

"Damn. Maybe next time," he gives me a small nod. I decide against drinking, and follow Uriah back towards the others. I am met with greetings from Will, Lynn, Marlene, Al, and Christina, before they return back to their game of truth. I don't join in, but as I listen to them talk, I look around—my eyes meet Tobias's across the room; and I suddenly wonder if Uriah has asked him already.

He doesn't look away, he looks like he has something to say.

I notice, that unlike the others, the bottle in his hand rarely even touches his lips, though he looks on his way to intoxication. "—Tris. _Hello_...anyone in there?" Christina nudges my arm, and my face heats up when I realize she caught me.

"Sorry, I was just—,"

"—staring at Four?" She smirks slightly; I don't want to explain it to her, so I just smile, and nod. "You don't have to stay over here, you know. If you want to be alone with him, you can."

"No, I'm fine," I say. She gives me a skeptical look, but returns to the game.

I don't want to talk to Tobias about our argument just yet, solely because I am afraid that he'll see my promise as half-true. It's not easy for me to lie to him, even if the lie is a small one—I cannot feign vulnerability in Peter's presence, or even Eric's, because I know I am stronger than that; than them.

I cannot promise him, if given the chance, that I won't fight Peter again.

Tobias doesn't like unreasonable violence—he refrains from all violence if possible. I've noticed that about him. I'm not particularly physical, either, but I refuse to constrain myself to stay down when I am challenged.

Still, I watch him.

I don't know how long for, but a little while later he motions for me to follow him. The others are a little too tipsy to notice when I walk away, too engrossed in their game. I cross the room, following him towards the path of the chasm. We can talk there; for a moment, my chest feels tight at the thought. Suppose he's still sober enough to have rethought our entire conversation from earlier, and he's going to confront me about lying.

I try not to work myself up; I won't know anything until he talks. I'll just be assuming again.

I follow him until I can only see his outline. He stops right before the gap in the wall, and turns to face me. I listen to the sound of the water rushing for a few seconds, before he speaks up, "hey."

"Hey," my lip stings as I chew into it more, to keep it from shaking. I don't like this silence: searching for the right words, avoiding the wrong ones. It's like we're about to cross a minefield.

"We're okay, right?" It seems like all of his courage is behind that question; it catches me off guard that he would think we're not. But I can't blame him for thinking it. I nod, though I'm sure he can barely tell.

"Yeah, of course," I answer. I suck in a large breath, and say, "I told you, Tobias, I'm not about to just walk away. We're okay." And he pulls me into his arms, wrapping me in a tight, safe hug. My arms instinctively pull him closer, and we hold each other for a few minutes until he pulls back.

I can't read his expression; the way he's looking at me so intensely. _Could I love him?_ The word makes my throat dry, raw. I think I already do, but those three words mean commitment—commitment I have no idea if I am ready for. I trust Tobias, more than I ever knew possible. But I need to be sure, before I ever tell him those words.

Before I ever give him every piece of me.


	18. Big Brother

**A/N: I apologize greatly for the delay, FF did not say that their servers were not working over weekend so I had a very frustrating time trying to login to update originally. Then the rest of my week spiraled into insane busyness. So to make up for the excessive, inconvenient wait, I have written three new chapters for you. Thank you for your amazing patience and kind reviews as always!**

CHAPTER 18 – BIG BROTHER

The room is too warm when I wake up the next morning.

I don't hear Christina's usual half-snores, and when I glance over at her bed I am looking at a disheveled blanket, her pillows strewn haphazardly across it, and an empty mattress.

I wonder, did she come back last night? I was too tired to wait up for her—and I am used to her unorganized manner. It's more likely she spent the night with Will; doing what, I won't indulge thought on.

My hair lays all across and around me on the pillow, over my neck. I may be a restless sleeper, even when I am unconscious. I untangle it from around me, and run my fingers through the unforgiving knots and sit up, throwing my legs over the side.

The bathrooms are mostly empty when I get there. I step into the shower, and take care of what I need to. When I was younger, bath times were like the enemy—I welcomed the dirt, because I could barely sit still, and I wanted to move around. Now, I welcome just standing under the water, the clean feeling, with open arms.

I think about skipping breakfast, because I still haven't seen Christina, or even the others, but I spot Caleb sitting by himself at one of the tables, with two books open by his tray. I refrain from rolling my eyes, but allow myself to smile; his love for books, or knowledge in general, is unquenchable.

I take the seat across from him, expecting him to glance up; he doesn't. I sigh, trying to gauge a reaction.

Nothing.

Then he says, "you know, sighing is a sign of discontent." I stare at him for a moment, unsure of how to respond. _I know that_. That's why I sighed in the first place.

"I'm aware," I finally say, leaning back in the chair, "you kept reading like I wasn't even here."

"When are you ever?" Caleb retorts with a slight smirk.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I ask him, offended.

He shrugs, closing his books, "you're always sneaking off campus. The only times I see you is when you come up to me." I would think I am being too obvious, if it weren't in his nature to sometimes be obnoxiously observant. I frown for a moment.

"I'm not _sneaking_," I say defensively. Caleb gives me a skeptical look, and I sigh, "they let us go when classes are over. But you never leave the library, or the labs."

"Mom and dad would expect you to be doing the same." I feel a flash of heat run through me, disappearing as quickly as it came. My eyes narrow at him.

"Don't use them like a weapon against me," I say slowly, "I'm not as academically engrossed as you are. And my grades are fine."

"I'm not using them as a weapon," he says, staring at me, "I'm just saying that maybe you should be more focused. That's all, Beatrice." I sigh, pushing my hair out of my face. When I sat down, I expected a much nicer turn of events than this.

"We're not wired the same, Caleb." I shake my head at him, "I would think you of all people would know that." He nods, but like he's agreeing with my first statement not with my second.

"I do know that," he replies quietly, "but I really think you should."

"Did they say anything about this?" I ask, "when they visited?" He looks reluctant to answer at first, then nods once.

"Dad did." I bite my lip so hard, I feel a pinch, "he asked me if I knew anything about it."

"What did you tell him?"

Caleb looks down, "not the truth." I feel the all too familiar guilt, chiseling at the back of my mind. I know how much he hates lying—lying in general—but it's worse when it comes to our parents. But there are secrets I've kept from them, for him, as well; we may hate keeping secrets, but sometimes it's the bond that brings Caleb and me closer. Because we stick together. And because despite how much we dislike keeping them out of the loop, we are brother and sister. It's human nature. Caleb sucks in a breath, looking me in the eye, "but if I'm going to keep lying for you, at least for right now, _I_ need to know more than what you've told me. I can keep making things up—but you have to know that I might slip up, and they will find out."

The back of my neck feels warm. I rub it to ease the tension, and sigh. I know they will; hopefully it'll be me telling them the truth instead of them finding out. I'd rather they be disappointed when I tell them, than disappointed when they find it out from someone else. "What do you need to know?" I ask reluctantly. He contemplates his questions—which scares me. Because I do not know if I will be able to answer them as honestly as he needs me too. I don't know the extent of his curiosity.

"Where do you and your friends go?" I guess he's going to start with the easy questions.

"A place called the pit," I answer. "It's not far from here." He looks over my face, frowning.

"Where did you get those bruises?" He asks, concerned, "I didn't notice them before." I almost laugh at the audacity of it all; the first thing he hasn't noticed about me—but this is not a laughing matter.

"One of my friends," he's already stopped Peter once; and I don't need him making Caleb a target, so I will leave Peter out of this, "she's training me. Self-defense stuff." I speak as convincingly as I can, and he seems to believe me. Technically I am not lying, I am just choosing to tell the better truth.

Caleb nods, "are you ever going to tell them about that tattoo?" I know it peaks just out of the top of my shirt; he eyes it, wearily for a moment.

"Uh, maybe," I reply carefully. I will be eighteen soon; it won't matter then, because I will legally be an adult.

"What do you and your friends do at the... _pit_?" He asks; I nod, and swallow hard. I am afraid that if I mention the drinking, this whole deal will be off. But Caleb has been trustworthy since the moment I became his sister—I tell myself this to ease the words out.

"Well, a lot of things go on," I start, "for one, there are three leaders...and then some who kind of help out around the pit. They have fights that go on," Caleb wrinkles his nose at the mention; it's better than him putting the pieces together, about my bruises, so I ignore it, "some people drink...and well, it's mostly just a place to go to when there's nothing to do here."

"Doesn't sound like my kind of place," he says, with a small smile. I feel a laugh bubble up in my throat, and nod.

"I didn't think so when Christina first brought me there," I say. But there was a sort of magnetic pull that told me otherwise. Then Caleb is serious, all humor is gone from his face.

"What do _you_ do when you go there?"

My throat feels tight. I don't know how he would react if I told him about Tobias; there is only one way to find out. I wedge my hands between my legs, gripping the edge of my chair beneath the table to keep them from shaking, "Well I..." I stutter, biting into my lip. I sigh, "...I go to see a _friend_..." I use the term loosely, though Caleb's no fool. He catches on quickly.

"A friend?" He's not accusing, though his tone is quite intimidating. Maybe I'm just afraid he is going to turn all overbearingly protective of me. I know he will, if he ever meets Tobias. I am only a year younger, but I am still his little sister. "Like a boyfriend?"

That word weighs on my shoulders the moment he says it. I nod. Caleb scowls slightly, looking down at the table, and then at me.

"Are you gonna tell mom and dad?" I hate when he asks me this; he asks it like we don't keep secrets from them.

"What about you and that girl who sat with you a few weeks ago?" I ask, trying to change the subject before my face reddens anymore.

"She's just a friend," he says, defensively. He is lying—or at least, he wishes he was, by the disappointment in his voice.

"And mom knows," I add quietly, "I already told her. While you and dad walked around the campus that day." I see his expression soften some, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Why didn't you tell me then?"

"Because you would have probably scolded me," I mutter, "and you'd probably want to meet him so you could play the big brother character." I know that I am a little out of line with the accusation, but I knew how this would play out when I finally told him. Caleb pouts.

"Well, I do want to meet him," he says firmly. I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling the beginning of a headache starting. "Do you have any classes with him." I'm starting to believe telling him I have a boyfriend wasn't the hardest part—telling him said boyfriend no longer goes to this school is.

"Er...no," I say, tightening my grip on the chair. For a moment, I think that the plastic bends in my hands but it goes back into place when I release it, to be sure. "He...doesn't...he's no longer a student here." His suspicious stare becomes one of surprise—and then anger?

"What does that mean—?"

"—he's nineteen, Caleb," I answer quickly, "he finished school. I promise, he's not a drop-out, or some _older_ guy..."

"Beatrice—,"

"—Caleb, please," I beg desperately. Caleb makes a discontented sound, between a groan of irritation and a sigh. "Don't make such a big deal..."

"What has gotten into you?" He asks, looking tired. "Does mom know how old he is?"

"Yes," I say, "I wasn't not going to tell her his age. Honestly, Caleb... I am going to be eighteen pretty soon, just like you. As of right now, it's only a two year difference—and..." I feel my face get hot, and I dig the heels of my hands into my eye sockets, "...we're not..._doing anything_..." I have lost track of how many times, and how many people, I have had this unnecessary conversation with. I do not want my brother mixed in with the statistic.

Caleb looks at the table uncomfortably, then sighs, "..._fine_. But I still want to meet him, at least." I nod, reluctantly. At least that I can do.

XxXxX

I stand by the railing, looking over countless heads to find Tobias. I have zoned out the others, but their boisterous laughter brings me back to the conversation every once in a while. The only thing I really remember paying attention to was the story of Uriah getting his first tattoo—the one behind his ear.

I glance down, spotting a good size stain of red, soaked into the stone. The same substance is dried on the railing; my stomach turns just looking at it. I remember Uriah mentioning this was close to where Tobias fought Eric. I would bet anything it's Eric's blood. Or maybe Tobias's, though it was only his hands that were cut up.

Two hands rest low on my hips, and fingers slip into the front pockets, stroking my leg through the fabric softly. And I am surrounded by his scent; I lean back, so my shoulders meet his chest and Tobias kisses my temple, "hey."

"Hi," I smile, turning around to face him. "How was working the controls?" I ask, though I already know what he's going to say. Tobias narrows his eyes at the back of Zeke's head.

"Don't ask," he mutters with a small smirk. He leans forward, giving me a quick, but sweet kiss. He smells like wind, and tastes like mint—an intoxicating mix. I feel a tap on my shoulder, and we glance over my shoulder to see Christina giving us a knowing look.

"Don't go running off just yet," she says sternly, grinning after a second. I roll my eyes at her, and turn in his arms to face them. For a while, we pretend we are in on the conversation with the rest of them, but all I focus on is the feeling on his hands on my waist and the feeling of his warm breaths along my neck. He listens to the conversations more than I do, though I know that what he's doing with his hands is intentional—he is trying, and succeeding, to distract me.

"I want to talk to you about something," I say quiet enough for him to hear. He gives me a curious look, "nothing too serious, I promise." I smile so he doesn't think otherwise, and he nods. I tap Christina's arm, and tell her we will be back—she gives me a semi-hard look, but nods.

Tobias and I leave the others at the railing, and we head into the back where it's quiet. He stops halfway down the hallway, leaning against the wall as he looks over me, "what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Well, I told my brother about us..." I start, holding one of his hands between two of mine, "...and he wants to meet you sometime soon." He looks amused, watching me. "What?"

"Should I be expecting the big brother talk?" I have to laugh, feeling the heat flood into my face. I nod, biting into my lip.

"He says that won't happen," I say, "but I know my brother." Tobias stands up a little taller, towering above me. He brings a hand up to my face, cupping my jaw, and leans down to kiss me, slowly. I sigh against his lips, and try to pull him closer but he pulls back after a moment.

"I'll behave," he teases with a smirk. I laugh again, and cover his hand with mine, "we should probably get back before Christina yells at us."

"She can get over it," I reply, giving him a devilish grin before pulling his face back to mine.


	19. Reason

CHAPTER 19 – REASON

We leave the others at the pit, and go back to his apartment. I missed his bed, and the moment we get inside I pull him with me, towards it—I almost don't give him time to shut the door.

His surprised expression makes me laugh. I pull him closer to me, so he hovers above my body on his bed. He holds both of my hands in one of his, above my head; his lips are so close to mine. I tilt my head up, grazing his lips.

My heartbeat lives in my throat, lives beneath my skin. Lives in my fingertips, for him. But this kiss is not enough for us, his free hand stabilizes my chin and the force of his lips make mine part for him. His breaths become mine, and it's like I can't get enough.

I can barely think straight, all I can focus on is the feel of him, parallel with my body; a firm, but comfortable pressure pinning me down on the mattress.

A prickle of certainty stirs in my belly. My palms find the tough of his abdomen, beneath the fabric of his shirt, and Tobias hums into our kiss. My mouth tingles with the rumble of it, and a grin stretches across my lips. He feels good.

A warmth spreads through my stomach, filling every inch of my body; the ache for him yearns to be acknowledged, demands to be fulfilled. And for a moment, I almost give in to it but reality holds me back. I turn away for air, and Tobias presses wet kisses to the underside of my jaw.

"This is new," Tobias says, with amusement lacing his voice. His fingers squeeze the curve in my waist. He makes it hard to reorganize my scattered thoughts. I don't trust my voice to remain even, afraid that my courage will leave like my breath. But I smile, and let my hand feel the hard of his chest. My palms are cold against his warm skin.

Tobias dips his head down to my collarbone and traces the tip of his tongue over my skin. He blows cold air onto the area, and I shiver with delight. I slide my hands up further, up his sides, feeling each bump and sink of his ribs as I go. The bones in his hips dig into my thighs, creating an intense friction with my skin, despite my jeans being in the way.

He lifts the hem of my shirt up, stopping just beneath my bra. His fingers burn, sending electricity beneath my skin and I know I should stop him, but instead I pull him closer. I sigh against his lips, and heat floods my face.

His hand skims over the bruise where I was kneed, and a quick stab of pain—now a discomfort—brings me back to reality. We can't do this now. I pull back, and he removes his hands from my body; cool air pools over my stomach, and I shiver, pulling my shirt back down.

"It still hurts," he says quietly. He turns away for a moment, reaching for something down underneath the other side of the bed. When he turns back, it's a small, white container, and when he opens it the strong, mint scent hits my nose. He scoops out a clear substance, and pulls my shirt up again. Careful to keep that stuff off my clothes, Tobias rubs it onto my skin. It's cold, and the smell seems to become more prominent. But it numbs my skin, and so I focus on the blind feel of his fingertips. "Does it hurt anywhere else?"

I remember the muscles in my shoulder, from training with Shauna; Peter punched me there. I also just want his hands on me. I bite my lip, and say, "my shoulder." He lets me tug my arm out of the sleeve—a slight pain twitches as I lift my arm up.

Tobias pulls the rest of my sleeve out of the way, and rubs more of the salve onto my arm. His fingers ghost over my skin, over the bones in my arm, like a caress and I force myself to suppress my moan. But I smile at the wall.

I hardly feel any of the pain when the salve starts to warm up. Tobias holds my hair out of the way as he finishes up, and then his lips touch the back of my neck. My lips part in a quiet gasp—it's like every nerve has just lit up like lights, and warmth shoots through my skin.

I sit up, and turn to face him. Tobias sits up straighter, as I kneel on either side of his legs. His hands touch my hips, his thumbs curl over the tops of my thighs and a heavy, slow sensation, like honey dripping, replaces my blood. I touch his face, along his cheekbones, his jaw, and his neck, enjoying the light scratch from the new stubble growing in.

All pain is forgotten again; and suddenly, it's like we're in a hurry. Even if we can't be _that_ way yet, I need to feel him.

I touch his arms, thick with muscle, and slip my hands up the sleeves until they rest on his broad, angled shoulders. I shift, moving closer and Tobias groans between a kiss, with his hips coming up to meet mine. The friction causes heat to stir in my stomach, and turn with want. My hands shake, and I grip his shoulders harder to keep them still.

The same questions cloud my mind again—loud and unrelenting as ever. But instead of _could I love him_, I ask myself _do I love him?_

I have been afraid of devotion, because I am afraid of not knowing how to keep up with it. If I tell him those words, I have to be sure. I never knew what classified love as love in a relationship. I never had somebody who made me question it. If it was loving the little things, and the big things? I always wondered, _what if I say the words without conviction? What if I say them, but don't believe them?_

_But that's impossible_, I argue. Of course I would believe them. I would believe them because they would be true—I don't think love can be classified by one thing, one question, or even one feeling. Because with Tobias, I don't just feel one thing. I love him. _I love him_.

I don't want to spend time with somebody else. I don't want to argue with someone else, or even make promises with someone else. I want my life to continue with Tobias, and only Tobias.

He is the only person who has ever caused my heart to beat erratically. He is the only person I have ever felt this way for; I have never wanted somebody so much. And because of how kind, and peaceful, and strong he is—because he is my never-eroding rock, when I am crashing waves—I am not afraid that he won't love me back. He makes me stronger. He is worthy of love, and I am immodest enough to believe that I can give him that.

I only hear my heartbeat in the moments that follow my thoughts. My muscles tighten like they're ready to spring, and all of my courage threatens to consume me. I am sure my nails have left indents in his skin by how hard I am clutching at him. "I think...I love you," I blurt, breathlessly, testing the words on my lips. I like how they sound, and I like my choice. I am sure, he is what I want. And because he is who I need. I speak firmer this time, more certain, "I love you."

His wide-eyed gaze is my favorite sight in this moment. Though my hands still clutch at his arms for stability as I wait. He reaches behind him, grabbing my hands and for a moment, despite how much I know he wouldn't be cruel, blind panic nearly swallows me—I think, for a second that I may have said it too soon but then he's slowly guiding my hands up over his clothed chest. I watch the material wrinkle and smoothen out beneath them. My palms tingle, even through the fabric, and I focus on the feel of his beating heart for a few moments. He stops us at the base of his neck, and then his arms are around my waist, and our bodies are close as we can manage. Keeping his eyes on my face with his expression unwavering, he says almost inaudibly, "I love you, too."

He kisses me, hard, with everything he has, and everything he is. And in turn, I give him the same. I thought I was unsure, but I have been sure this whole time; from our first kiss, to all of our times alone. I have been ready for this commitment, since I told him _yes_ at the pier. I have been ready. Because he has not given me any reason to doubt this other world we've created for ourselves. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to tell you that." He says against my lips. And I laugh, because he is mine, and I am his, and because this is something I could spend my entire life trying to put it into words.

And I kiss him, because I am sure.

This kiss is different from all of the others; this kiss is demanding, and yearning, full of need. But it's a need that I'm afraid cannot be satisfied yet—that if we were to try, it would never go out. We would never burn out. Tobias's strong hands squeeze the tops of my thighs, all the way down to my knees at his sides—it is enough to drive me crazy.

I need to see him. I need to feel him. My fingers tug at the bottom of his shirt, and his hands release me to grab at the neckline and pull it over his head. My hands run over the exposed skin—he feels like silk, and he feels like stone.

Tobias kisses me once more, and then pulls back, stroking his thumb over my cheekbone. His voice is gruff, "I want to wait, just a little bit longer. Until your bruises have healed, and you're not sore, and we've both got clear minds." I don't protest—I am blinded by my confession, and my overwhelming desire to have him that I am driven by pure lust at the moment. But I will not change my mind.

XxXxX

The first thing I see when I open my eyes is the ink curling around his neck, and the contour of his collarbones. The air around him is warm, like it radiates off his skin. It ghosts across my legs but I still shiver; I slept in one of his t-shirts, that stops just past my hips. His arms are tangled around my waist, pinning it further up my body. He is awake, his fingers play with the bottom of the shirt.

I stretch my legs out, slipping them back beneath the blanket, and tilt my head up to kiss his jaw, "good morning."

He smiles, tightening his arms around me, "good morning." Bumps rise down my skin, following the trail of his fingers from my spine, down to my knee, and back; he stops, resting his hand on my hip. His fingers warm my bare skin through the fabric, and I think back to our first date, in the net, when we—well, _he_—tried to guess the color of my underwear. I smirk to myself, against his shoulder and laugh quietly.

Tobias looks down at me, a wicked grin stretches across his face, "what are you laughing at?" He asks, squeezing my sides playfully. There is a slight discomfort, from where Peter hit me, but it goes away as quickly as it came.

"I was thinking about our date," I say, covering his hands with mine, "and how you were determined to figure out the color." He smirks, peering down.

"Looks like I don't have to guess, now." I roll my eyes, and he laughs, pulling me up onto his lap so that I straddle him. I don't even care that we're both partially naked, I want to give this side of us a chance—eventually. And being with him, this carelessly, makes me warm all over. I'm glad my body seems to know what it's doing, reacting with his, because I barely think about how my hands seek out his firm stomach, or how his hands hold me closer to his body.

Not even when my shirt is twisted around his arms, exposing most of my chest to the cool air that kisses me, do I pull away. My back arches, pushing me closer, when the rough skin on his fingertips traces my spine.

If we could stay here all day, I think we would.

He kisses me harder, and I sigh against his lips. Okay, I _know_ we would.

I only pull away for air, but I am distracted by his mouth kissing down my neck. He presses them to the hollow of my throat, the dip in my collarbone over my tattoo, and finally to my shoulder; Tobias tugs the sleeve down out of the way, and the neckline is just big enough to give him all the access he needs.

He works me up, much too easily.

My voice quakes as I try to find the air to speak, "...do we have to get up?" His laugh tickles my shoulder, sending warm breaths over across my skin. My hands tighten on his waist, to keep from shaking.

"We don't _have_ too," he murmurs, pressing another kiss just below my jaw. As I look down at him, the color in his eyes seems brighter—though his eyes are glassier. My hair makes a wall around us, keeping us in our own little space. I stare at the lines of sunlight that mark his face through my strands, and I kiss his lips again because I can't get enough of him. Somehow, this perfectly imperfect man is mine; and somehow, he chose me to be his.

I like to think there was a reason I was sent back to Chicago—and I'm choosing to believe it was because of him.


	20. Friction

**A/N: While writing this chapter, the new, **_**new**_** Insurgent trailer was released (with more Four) and I physically could not contain myself. I will stop rambling, because new chapter!**

CHAPTER 20 – FRICTION

Tobias and I spend the better part our day at his apartment, on his bed, either kissing or just talking about nothing in particular. I don't change out of his shirt, essentially because I want to keep his scent all around me.

The sun is up just a little higher when we finally decide to move around. He goes to take a shower, while I reluctantly put my rightful clothes back on.

I familiarize myself with his sounds, and his settings. The kitchen is near to abandoned, with only a few minimal things scattered on the counter. His bed is neither neat nor particularly messy, just slightly strewn around. I've always noticed how cozy it was, but I never paid attention to how it is distinctly him.

My favorite has always been the abnormally large window, that stretches across most of the room. The skyline is amazing from here, especially with the sun glowing over the buildings at this time of day.

When I first met him, I didn't think he was a person of much light. Darkness seemed like his personality, but I know now that it's not. He likes waking up to the sun warming the air over the bed.

He trusts me here, amongst his apartment–and whether he thinks it lacks in appearance, or not, I would not want to be anywhere else at the moment. Little details, that is something else we have in common.

And I love him in every way possible. He is tethered to the story marked in his skin like fingerprints, but I couldn't have asked for anyone more stronger, or equal in my life.

I hear the water shut off after a good few minutes, and Tobias walks out, dressed in a new set of clothes. I bite my lip to keep from frowning–I much prefer him without his shirt on. But I know how he feels about exposing himself, even if it's just his shirt.

Although, it _is_ only us here.

He walks towards me, taking my face in his hands, and presses a sweet kiss to my lips.

It is quite the privilege to be his.

XxXxX

I focus more on my school work that follows the next week. It is December; it's much colder here in Chicago than I remember.

Tobias and I have rarely seen each other much after that night; he and Zeke continue to work in the control room, while I train more with Shauna during my free time. I don't see him at night, because I am too exhausted from training and he doesn't get back until late.

My bruises have healed since my losing fight, although Shauna has given me some new ones. Not as bad, nor nearly as brutal, as Peter's handy work, however.

The discoloration in my face has disappeared almost completely, but I still see an annoying patch of yellow where the ugly, blueish-purple color once was. It no longer hurts to touch, at least.

The more I think about Peter though, I hear my mother's voice telling me just to forgive him–however, my reasoning wouldn't be the same, because I would forgive him for being a coward, hiding behind brutality. Not because it was the right thing to do–being the bigger person and all.

I am trying to forgive him, nonetheless.

Because I won't fight Peter again: for one reason, and one reason only; and that reason is Tobias. I do not want to risk losing him over a stupid victory. He is much more important to me than winning.

I have spent most of my Thursday, well into the evening, exhausting myself in the training room, when Shauna tells me to go back to the dorm and get some rest.

When I do, Christina tries to persuade me into going to the pit with the others.

"You don't want to see Four?" She asks, with mock surprise. I roll my eyes, and toss my now-warm ice pack at her.

"Of course I do," my voice sounds muffled through the pillow. I lift my head up some, and say, "I _want_ too. But he's busy tonight anyway, and I really need sleep."

"You've been training a lot this week," Christina says, "like _a lot_. Are you gonna fight Peter again?" My throat tightens for a second, and I force myself to swallow nothing.

I'm not sure why I hesitate, but I shake my head after a moment, "No...I'm not. It'd be stupid to."

"You're a terrible liar," Christina retorts, "biting your cheek is your worst giveaway. Alongside, biting your lip or your nails." I glare at her, and she sighs, "is it because of how angry Four got after the first fight?"

My eyes narrow out of curiosity this time, "what do you mean?" She couldn't be talking about our fight... could she? Only Uriah and Marlene had heard us, and I doubt either would tell the others.

"He confronted Eric, after taking you to the infirmary." She replies, speaking so casually as if it were basic knowledge. "He didn't mention it?"

I shake my head, "no. ...we were too busy arguing with each other..." Her eyes widen at me; I sigh, massaging my temples. "What happened?"

"He looked close to fighting Eric again," Christina answers, picking at her cuticle, "I haven't seen him look that intimidating in a long time...he always used to look so_ tired_. All the time. Honestly, this year has been a whiplash with him. He's different with you–happier, at least." I feel a small smile carve into my lips, and I bury my face in my pillow for a moment.

"What did he say to Eric?" I ask.

She shrugs, "I didn't hear too much, but I did hear Eric say _'she wasn't backing down. You could have stopped her, but then you'd look like..._'" she trails off, and I frown again. Though her impression of Eric is impeccable. And I need to talk to Tobias about this.

Did he think it wasn't important to mention to me? Did he forget? The hopeful part of me begs it's the second option.

She asks, slowly, "Why did you two fight?"

"Have you and Will ever fought over something, like the other person's safety?" I ask after a long moment. I am not sure how to answer her question directly—I know I would skirt around it because I don't know where to start. Christina shrugs.

"I guess," she answers, "I don't really remember much of our arguments. We don't really fight that much...when we do, it's usually just factual stuff." She laughs slightly, "Well, I did yell at him for scaring me at the train tracks the first time." I smile.

"Okay, so something like that—," I start, "—you cared for Will more than you thought, right? Even though he did something foolish."

"Yeah..."

"Well, that was kind of how our fight went," I say, folding and unfolding my hands. I can't tell her about his parents; for now, it's as good an answer as I can give her.

XxXxX

We are separated for another few days, keeping the ever-present questions in the front of my mind.

Christina pulls my hand away from my face, and I realize it's because I have bitten my nail too short. So I focus on the sting as I wait for Tobias and Zeke to come join us.

"Nervous, much?" Lynn asks, looking down at my hand. I shove my hand into my pocket, and look up as two figures appear on the mezzanine. It's Tori and Eric–I scowl, and glance around the other side of the room.

"I'm not nervous," I answer, more irritably than I mean too. I want to ask her if she saw Tobias confront Eric, but I hold back—something tells me they all did, and they just assumed I knew.

Thankfully it's not as cramped tonight, however, it's still quite hard to move around or see over people's heads. But I see Zeke appear from the back hallway, and a few moments later Tobias walks out behind him. He wears the black sweater he let me wear a few weeks ago. I feel my lips tug up in a crooked smile—my head is unfocused; I just want to ask him about it.

When he's close enough to me he pulls me into a tight hug, rocking us back and forth for a moment. "I've missed you," he whispers into my ear, pressing a feather light kiss below my ear. I shiver in his arms, and I am thankful for his warmth in this moment.

"I've missed you too," I sigh, "...I need to talk to you." I realize how bad that sounds the moment I say it, and I swallow hard when I feel his body tense up.

"What's wrong?" He asks, trying to hide the waver in his voice. The others are too busy in their conversation, drinking large gulps of whatever they are holding. I bite my lip—I don't want to say it here, in fear that we may argue. But I don't want to leave him wondering what I have to say if we go somewhere else.

"Why didn't you tell me you confronted Eric?" I ask quietly, "after my fight with Peter?" His expression changes, from anxious to curious.

"How do you know about that?" I feel a swell of anger surface suddenly.

"Where you ever going to tell me about that?"

"It's not important," he replies, shaking his head, "I was angry...that he did that, especially because Peter is almost twice your twice. I didn't fight him...and after I calmed down, I realized that of course he would do that." My breath shakes on the way out, like I am about to cry, though I am swallowing my anger.

"I found out from Christina," I say, "she thought I knew. It kind of hurts that they all knew, and you didn't think it was something you could tell me. I wouldn't have been angry—,"

"—that's the thing, Tris." Tobias says, carefully, "you say that, but I know you. We are almost the same with that—you would have been angry. We were both angry...I'm pretty sure you haven't forgotten our fight." I haven't. How could I? It was the first time we ever screamed at each other. Usually, our arguments before that—or disagreements, to say the least—consisted of irritable remarks.

"I don't like it when you think you can't tell me things," I pout, staring at the collar of his shirt.

"It's not that I think I can't," Tobias replies softly, "it's just that I think I shouldn't. At least not until stuff like that blows over."

"Well for my sake, just tell me. Please?" He nods after a second, and his hand slides down my arm, clasping our palms together. I know it is hypocritical of me to make him promise me this, when I can barely promise to him that I won't fight Peter—despite the hard set of my mind, telling me I won't. Because in my heart, I know that if given the first chance I will do my very best to end Peter.

XxXxX

Caleb waits by the library for us.

I hold Tobias's hand, maybe a little bit too tightly, because I am nervous. Caleb is not my father, but they are quite close—especially now. And part of me believes Caleb walked the thin line of brother and guardian because my parents are so far away from us.

Tobias squeezes my hand lightly, despite how hardly I am holding his. He leans close, so I can hear him, and says, "Relax, Tris." I don't know how he is so calm; but if he's not, I don't know how he is hiding it so well.

Caleb's stare stays solely on him; he watches Tobias, like he is about to grab me and run. We stop just a few feet in front of him, and he briefly glances down at our clasped hands. My palms feel sweaty. My heart pulses uncomfortably fast in my throat, and I have to clear my throat to speak, "Caleb. This is—," I hesitate. I am unsure if I should call him by his real name, or his nickname. Tobias cuts in then, and I silently thank him.

"—Tobias," he says politely. I breathe an inaudible sigh of relief.

"Caleb," my brother replies calmly, stretching his hand out toward us. I watch, amazed at how strong Tobias's grip is. He never falters, and my chest swells with more affection for him. Definitely, he is the rock.

"Tris," Tobias says slowly, turning to me, "how about Caleb and I talk, and we will come and get you when we're done?" I wonder, then, if me leaving would make it easier for the both of us. It would, I think. I wouldn't have to be embarrassed by Caleb, and Tobias wouldn't have more pressure by my presence. I nod, releasing his hand after a long moment.

"Okay. Uh, I'll just wait inside," I say. I walk past Caleb, into the library, without really any idea what to do for however long they may need. The doors are too thick to listen through, so that is not an option.

I notice Caleb's bag sitting on one of the chairs, closest to the window. He has books sprawled out across the table, all open to double-digit pages with words so small, to fit all of the information they hold.

I pull the chair opposite his out and sit down, pulling one of the books towards me. These must be his, because each page is pull of highlighted sections and messy, scribbled notes written in the margins.

The books' spines are all damaged and mangled from overuse, like he has reread these books a hundred times and I think, maybe he has. It wouldn't surprise me, but it certainly makes me wonder what has his interest.

I slip a blank sheet of paper in the binding, to save his place, and flip through the pages to try and decipher all of the notes he has written. Most of them are abstract thoughts, they don't make much sense to me other than key words.

I am not sure how long I flip through his books; eventually the doors open, and cold air settles around me. Caleb steps inside first, and then Tobias. Caleb laughs about something, which surprises me but also releases the tension in my muscles. I go back to the page he was on, and stand up when they reach the table. "So...?" I ask. Caleb gives me a half-smile.

Tobias grabs a hold of my hand again, and says, "I think we're all set."


	21. Touch

**A/N: Okay, okay... I figured I couldn't make you guys wait **_**anymore**_**. So...definitely, next chapter is for you guys. **

CHAPTER 21 – TOUCH

We walk across the campus, hand in hand—I feel slightly envious of how warm his hands are staying when mine feel like they are near to frostbitten. I notice him looking around, with almost a longing expression. I would love to meet the sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen-year-old Tobias that walked these halls. I want to know all of the memories he made here.

I shake his hand, "what did you and Caleb talk about?" I ask.

"You." He replies, with a knowing smirk. I roll my eyes.

"You know what I mean," I say. Tobias laughs, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

"Ah, well big brother talk—definitely," he says; I feel my face heat up, and I sigh.

"What did he say?"

"Well, there was quite a vocabulary," he replies, shaking his head, "some of it was out of my comprehension, but from what I understood it was 'don't mess around with my sister' and 'if you do, she'll kick your ass.'" I stare at him for a few seconds, before bursting into laughter.

My laughter subsides after a moment, "Sounds like my brother. Are you afraid of me, Tobias?" I tease. He grins, stopping us just underneath the gazebo by one of the pillars. Tobias leans his head down, kissing me hungrily. He slips his arms beneath mine, pulling me as close to his body as he can and holds me there. I remember that we are in direct view of the library, but I am light-headed and breathless, and uncaring at the moment.

Only when his fingers slide under my shirt, do I realize how cold his hands actually are and I shiver. We kiss greedily, without shame, for a few moments before he pulls back and looks down at me, "Terrified," he smiles, kissing between my eyes. He glances around us, then smirks, "you know, I always thought my first kiss would be under this awning."

"Oh really?" I ask, smiling, "not in a net?"

He shakes his head, "nope. But I wouldn't trade that moment for another," he says. His lips feel like ice on my skin, and all I want to do is warm them up—however, I can only imagine the show we've already given half of the student body, so we start walking again.

Small flakes of snow start falling, just as we get back to the pit. Tori waves at us from behind the desk in the tattoo parlor as we pass by and we head to his apartment.

It's much warmer.

Tobias unzips his sweatshirt, and tosses it onto the back of a chair. He touches my face, cupping my jaw in his palm—our skin is the same temperature—before he heads into the kitchen to get water.

I follow him, and take the bottle he offers me, but set it down on the counter a moment later. I watch his Adam's apple bob with each swallow, and my mouth goes dry—I guess there was a reason I accepted the bottle after all. When he pulls it away from his lips it's almost half empty. I bite down on my bottom lip to keep it from shaking; sometimes, I wonder if he does things with the knowledge of how he makes me feel.

I close the counter space between us, and wrap my arms around his waist. His hands secure me at my shoulders, and for a moment I debate what I want. I tilt my face up, pressing my lips to the underside of his jaw. Tobias stands perfectly still as I nestle myself between his legs, and move my lips down his throat.

His skin tastes like salt, and my lips leave a wet trail across his neck. My teeth graze his Adam's apple, and electricity shoots through me as his breaths come out in short, shaky bursts. His fingers tighten on my arms, and in the next moment I am pinned against the countertop, in his place.

Tobias stares at me through heavy eyelids; his eyes, bright with a carnivorous need, "you drive me crazy, Tris," he whispers roughly, resting his hands against the counter. His hips dig into mine for a few seconds, holding me still, and then his lips are on mine and I am being lifted onto the countertop.

My hands touch him everywhere I can reach, memorizing each dip and tough of his body with only my sense of feel. His breaths are hot in my mouth, and his tongue is soft, meeting mine. Tobias flattens his cool palms against the arch in my back, but I shiver from the entire feel of this moment.

It doesn't last long—loud knocks pound on the door, and we pull apart with a jump. My heart beats loudly in my ears; from the kiss, or from the sudden company, I can't be sure anymore. Tobias's hands fall away from my body, letting the cool air replace them, and walks over to the door to open it.

"Zeke?" He steps aside and Zeke comes in, spotting me instantly.

"She gets to sit on the counter?" He asks with a whine, "yet, when I do it you bitch about it."

"_Her_, I like," Tobias retorts, shutting the door and coming back over to me. Zeke rolls his eyes, and throws himself down into one of the chairs. Tobias's thumb skims against the side of my thigh, through my jeans.

"I'm hurt," Zeke says, feigning a wounded expression with his hands over his heart.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Tobias asks.

"Controls got boring, and Eric's being a pain in the ass," Zeke mutters; he turns my water bottle around in his hands.

"What is he doing now?"

"Asking why you weren't there," he answers, shaking his head, "I told him we only need at least one person watching the screens at a time. Figures he wouldn't care what I said." Tobias leans against the counter beside me, watching Zeke for a moment. His hand slips behind me, unnoticed, and hooks into my belt loop; I bite back an embarrassed grin, and breathe through my nose so my breaths don't shake from anticipation.

"Who's there now?" Tobias asks, acting—though knowing what he's doing—as if he's not secretly trying to touch me. The tips of his fingers slip beneath the waistline of my jeans, and I have to cross my legs to make myself try to calm down. I see the corner of his mouth lift up.

Zeke shrugs, "Uriah, though I know I can't leave him there. He wouldn't mess anything up, but I don't want to think of what Eric would do if he caught him."

"Don't you think you should go make sure Eric hasn't then?" I ask, realizing how breathless I sound. I clamp my mouth shut and throw a glare in Tobias's direction.

"Probably," Zeke answers; he still hasn't noticed, thankfully.

"I think you should," Tobias suggests, stroking his thumb against my skin. He can be an ass sometimes—my hands sit, clenched and white-knuckled, in my lap as I will myself not to stop him and make it obvious what he's doing.

Zeke stands up, shaking his head at Tobias, "you just want me gone."

"Never," Tobias mocks a concerned expression, and Zeke laughs.

"Yeah, yeah," he waves us off and heads toward the door, "I know when I'm not wanted. Later."

"Bye," We say in unison; the moment Zeke shuts the door behind him, I grab Tobias's hand from my jeans and flatten his palm out on the counter.

"What is wrong with you?" I ask; it's hard to act like I am mad at him when he is smiling at me with a devilish, crooked grin. Tobias shrugs, kissing me briefly.

"What can I say, Tris? I can't keep my hands off of you—," I shove him, hard, and he laughs, "—hey, in my defense, he interrupted us."

"You couldn't wait?"

"How can I?" He teases me, uncrossing my legs to run his hands up to the tops of my thighs, and squeeze lightly, "you are very tempting." I roll my eyes, and he chuckles. He stands between my legs, and I slide my hands up his chest, stopping them just above his heart.

"Soon," I promise quietly, meeting his eyes. Tobias nods; his lips linger on my forehead for a few seconds.

"Soon."

XxXxX

Uriah, Marlene, Lynn, Christina, and I decide later on that night to lay low in the training room.

Christina had "confronted" me earlier this morning about not returning to the dorm last night—I asked her about the other night, when she didn't come back and she shut up instantly.

Uriah finds throwing knives—he manages to convince Christina and Lynn into a competition, but Marlene and I fear our aims so we just watch.

"Don't aim that at me!" Uriah shouts as Lynn pretends to let go of hers. My heart waits in my throat, ready to jump out the moment I believe she will actually let go of it. Thankfully, she doesn't—instead, she laughs at our reactions.

"Come on, Uri. I wouldn't do that to you," she says, clutching at her stomach, "you know me better than that."

"Geez, could have fooled me," Uriah says, as tension seeps out of him. By the end of their competition, Uriah and Christina have more on the target while most of Lynn's lie on the floor, or in the wall behind the board.

"You're really good at this," I say to him, prying one of the knives out. Uriah grins.

"Not as good as Four," he says with a shrug, "he's got some deadly accuracy." I think back to when Tobias threw those knives at me; Uriah is right. He caught my ear from a good distance away, and the first three times he was pretty close—now, that I think back on it, I think they were intended to miss me.

He and Lynn start a new one, while Christina and I decide to head back to the dorm for the night. We get just out into the hall when she asks, "so...how are you and Four?" I know what she's asking; my face warms up. I know that eventually she will get everything she wants to hear from me—it would be pointless to try and cut her off any longer. I press my hands to my face to cool it down, and sigh.

"I think...it might happen," I say slowly; her eyes grow to the size of saucers and a silly grin stretches across her face, "...soon." I prepare myself for her loud outburst, but am surprised when I hear nothing. I glance over at her; she is smirking. "What?"

"I didn't have to pull teeth to get you to talk this time," she answers. I roll my eyes, and give her a look.

"Well it's pointless," I reply, "you would keep asking until I gave you something."

"Aw, see I told you I'd get you to talk," she laughs, throwing her arm around my shoulders. That she did; however, for now this is all I can offer her. I would like to keep some details to myself. Christina drops her voice to a half-whisper, and asks, "Have you guys done anything close? Like touching?"

I shake my head, slowly, feeling a little unsure, "not really...well, I don't know," I answer lamely, biting my lip, hard, "I mean, he hasn't—we haven't touched anywhere, but..."

"Has he put his hand inside your shirt, or something?"

"Er, yes," I say, "and partially my jeans." I hear Christina's shriek of fangirling, and when I look over at her, her grin is wider than I've ever seen. I can't help but wonder if her face hurts.

"Oh, it's totally gonna happen," she laughs. My face warms, but I smile with her because it's actually nice to have a friend like her, who I can tell anything like this to. She wraps her arms around my shoulders, swaying us back and forth almost neck-breaking fast, while practically singing about Tobias and me. I should stop her—I'm quite jealous, somehow she seems more excited about this than me; I'm not sure how that's possible.

XxXxX

It's another Saturday night; I join Christina and Will, and we go to the pit. Peter is fighting again tonight, but he is up against someone else—I still don't know if I will ever fight him again. If not, I have not backed away in fear.

Uriah, Marlene, Zeke, and Tobias stand by the railing, watching the start of the fight. Tobias pulls me against his side, slipping his hand into my back pocket—I bite back a giddy grin, and wrap my arms around his waist. I don't care that we are surrounded by people, I kiss him, slowly, so I can just feel the warmth of his lips and the gentle pressure of them against mine. Somebody whistles—I assume it's Uriah, and Tobias grins into the kiss, pulling back to look at me, "Zeke figured us out."

I give him a curious look, and ask, "what?"

"This morning," he laughs, stroking his thumb across my lips, "when I was trying to be subtle." I smirk, letting my hair fall like a curtain around my face to hide my blush.

"Yeah, you were subtle," I mutter sarcastically.

"Oh well," Tobias says beside my ear, "his mistake. He interrupted us." I can't help but laugh—laugh out of embarrassment, and out of hysteria. Tobias is right; _oh well_.

"It's a good thing I love you," I say, shaking my head. Though, I find myself falling more in love with this Tobias; when he is uninhibited and carefree with me. He reaches up then, to tuck my hair back behind my ear, and smiles.

"I love you, too," he says, low enough for me to hear. A warmth spreads through my chest when he says those words—a few months ago, if somebody had told me I would fall in unconditional love with this boy—and actually see it through enough to tell him so—I probably wouldn't have believed them.

Throughout most of the night, Tobias barely drinks any of what he's got in his hand. I almost feel bad for the bottle, an inanimate object—but then I'm smug because his lips have been on me more. The gentle pressure of his hand around mine is mostly what I focus on, until he leans down and talks slow, "do you want to get out of here?"

My stomach twists.

My heart feels like somebody is using it for drums, but it still focuses on my primal need in that moment: him. If we are going to be alone together—if this is going to happen—then I know what I want. I nod, and he sets the bottle down as we slip away from the others, who are much too drunk to really pay us any attention. I still look back to make sure.

I watch him at each glimpse I get under the blue lights. He looks like he is thinking, maybe a little too hard, about something. We walk silently, away from all of the noise, and I feel my nerves spike up instantly.

I force myself to breathe through my nose, but I feel light-headed so I pause; he stops mid-step, and glances back at me with a concerned expression. He brings his hand up to my face, stroking my cheekbone, "are you alright?" His voice sounds muffled from the blood rushing through my body.

Am I? I feel like I'm dying.

But I do not feel overwhelmed; I'm not sure how that's possible. I feel brave, but I also feel weak and all I want is to kiss him right now. Something gives me that push, because I take his face in my hands and pull his lips to mine, hard.

For a moment, he tries to pull back but then he stops, and I wonder if he suddenly realizes, like I do, he doesn't care that I don't want to address my fears. I don't want to question this, or overthink it because I will only scare myself more. But right now, I think I am only scared of passing this up.

I will not be afraid of this, of him. I refuse to talk myself out of trying this side of our relationship with him. My fingers twist in his shirt, gripping so tightly my knuckles begin to feel like they are going to pop. I push him back and he lets me, resting up against the wall, pinned between stone and my small frame.

His hands are in my hair, holding my head still while he kisses me back. I don't care if he notices how nervous I am; that my hands seek his stable body for strength. I wonder if he feels how amazing and terrifying this is—how badly I need him. My fingers curl in his belt loops, tugging him closer; it causes an intense friction between our bodies, enough to elicit a moan from the back of my throat.

"—Tris," Tobias says breathlessly, pressing a finger to my lips. He smirks, "unless you're willing to risk getting caught in this hallway, we need to move." I laugh for a moment, feeling my skin warm. I had almost forgotten we were in a corridor. I begin to walk, when his fingers tighten around my arm, "hold on..." he says, a little strained. I bite back my grin, and wait until he is able to walk again.


	22. Skin

**WARNING: This chapter is rated M**

CHAPTER 22 – SKIN

I doubt Christina or the others have noticed we're gone. Though I don't really think about them—all I can think about is how hard my heart is beating against my ribcage. All I can think about how badly I want him. My entire body aches for him, and for his hands to touch me.

This is right.

Still, it feels like my heart going to jump out of my throat if I try to speak. Tobias's fingers knead the back of my neck, curling in my hair again as he kicks his door shut behind us. Not once do his lips leave mine, and I kiss him back so firmly it hurts.

My lips part for him, and our teeth clash. My teeth graze his bottom lip, and gently I bite down. He hums into my mouth, kissing me harder and his tongue darts out to meet mine while his thumbs stroke just beneath my jaw, slow and gentle. His hands are cool, they soothe my burning skin.

My palms are sweaty, hot. I'm terrified, but not enough to tell him to stop. My fingers find their way into his short hair, tugging his head back lightly, giving me access to his jaw and neck. My lips seek the hollow between his collarbones, and his Adam's apple that trembles with his shaky breaths. Tobias lifts me up, and my legs instinctively drape around his waist while he holds me, leaving the door to bear most of my weight. He brings my face back up to his. My entire body quivers, the ache slowly growing more intense.

He pulls away to look at me, his skin is just as flushed as mine, "you need to tell me if this okay, Tris. What are you thinking?" He rests his forehead to mine, pressing a small kiss to my cheek. The lump in my throat has grown in size, but I try my best to swallow the fear and talk to him.

"I'm a little nervous," I say, my voice strained. He takes one of my hands in his and brings it between our chests. He lays my palm flat against his chest; his heart is beating just as quickly as mine—I wonder if his chest hurts like mine does. Mine feels like it's practically on fire; from lack of oxygen, or from his hands on me... most likely all of it plays a significant part in my temporary angina.

"I've never done this before," Tobias whispers, meeting my eyes. My heart swells more at his confession—we're both new at this, yet somehow that means everything. And despite how many times he's told me this, it means more each time. It doesn't scare me that we are inexperienced, because I am glad to be the first to learn his body.

"I trust you," I whisper back, biting my lip. He lifts his hand to my face, cradling it in his palm. His thumb grazes my swollen lip, releasing it from between my teeth before he kisses me again.

"You need to tell me if I hurt you."

"I will," I nod, pulling his face back to mine. I don't know how much time passes as we stay there in the middle of his apartment, but he eventually carries me over to his bed and lays me down across the blanket. He keeps one foot off the bed to stabilize himself, the other rests at my calf. Tobias kneels over me, playing with my hair for a moment as he watches me, anxiously.

"What is it?" I ask quietly, suddenly shy under his gaze. Tobias smiles, leaning closer to me so his lips are at my ear. The stubble on his cheek scratches my skin, with his hot breaths hitting my face, sending a slow, warmth to drip through my veins.

Even through all these nerves he still finds a way to ease me, "I like this picture of you on my bed..." He whispers, placing kisses on the skin behind my ear. I laugh, losing some of the tension in my body.

One of his hands rests beside my head, holding him up while the other meets my hip, slipping beneath the fabric of my shirt. Tobias draws lazy, agonizing circles on the bare strip of skin he's found just above the line of my jeans; I must have made a sound, because he chuckles into my neck before pressing kisses down to my collarbone. I feel paralyzed—this whole situation leaving me absolutely breathless. I'm afraid if I breathe I'll break.

He still senses how nervous I am, by the way that he hasn't done much else yet. His hand is warm, though it's nothing like my clammy palms. I still feel the tingles on my skin when he removes his hand, lacing his fingers with mine at my side, "it's just me, Tris. It's just us, relax. I'm not gonna do anything you don't want me to. I promise."

Tobias sounds nervous now, and I know if I don't make some sort of notion that I'm alright with this he'll think I'm not. His eyes meet mine again, and my body relaxes some. Slowly, I let myself breathe and my free hand finds the crook of his neck. I pull his face down to mine, sighing against his lips.

I can still feel his heartbeat, practically syncing with mine. Again, he pulls back but his mouth is only centimeters away. We share the same air, and he asks, "what can I do to make this easier for you?" He's so gentle with this—with me. I don't think he can do anything more. His thumb strokes my jawline, "talk to me, Tris."

He rests on his forearm now, staring down at me from his hovering position. His chest is flush against mine, almost parallel with my body, and his heat mingles with mine through our clothes.

I bite my lip; it's probably more swollen from this than him kissing me. My hands shake even worse as I rest my palms on his waist, hooking my fingers through the belt loops. It takes me a moment to find the courage to grab the hem of his shirt and lift up. He covers my hands with his, and moments later his shirt is completely forgotten on the floor.

His tattoo curls over his skin, stopping just before his collarbone like always. I have him memorized this way. My fingers trail up his back, as though they can find where the ink begins and ends. His skin is riddled with memories, ones I know he so desperately wishes to forget. But I think, despite the ugly truth behind them, they make him who he is.

I don't trust my voice to tell him exactly what I want to say, but I circle his wrist with my fingers and rest his hand over my heart, trying my best to speak slowly so my voice stays even, "I want this. I want _you_."

And it's all the confirmation we need.

Tobias kisses me, hungrily but briefly. He leans over me, completely then, lining our bodies perfectly; his eyes don't leave mine as he reaches for the bottom of my shirt. I nod once and he lifts up, throwing it down next to his on the ground almost dramatically. I cover my face with my hands as I laugh, and suddenly his fingers graze down my sides, sending a shiver through my body. He takes his time down each of my ribs, leaving a lingering trail of electricity.

I try to resist the urge to cover myself back up; he lets his eyes gaze down and I feel the warm creep of a blush beginning. He notices when I try to shrink back into the mattress, because he holds my waist and places wet kisses down my stomach, stopping at the top of my jeans, "beautiful."

It's all he says.

Tobias comes back up and hovers over me again, leaning down closer to me for another kiss. All the nerves in my body are like live wires, alert and sensing. But I feel my fear dissipating with each passing moment that I focus on his bare chest against mine.

I feel his hands slip into the back pockets of my jeans, without really touching me though. His fingers don't move to match the curve, or make circles. I wrap my arms around his neck again, to hold myself up, as my lips move against his. I feel like a lightweight the moment our skin meets for the first time.

"You're sure about this?" Tobias asks, between rugged breaths. His eyes seek mine for the true admission, but he waits for my answer anyway. I nod.

I answer, "Yes."

He removes his hands from my pockets, slowly bringing them to the front of my jeans. His fingers shake a little as they grasp the button. A moment of bravery washes over me, giving me the confidence to help him. He sits back by the edge, tugging my jeans down my thighs; I lift my hips up to help him and he pulls them down the rest of my legs.

I didn't think a heart could beat this rapidly, or for this long, and still be classified as working properly.

His gaze makes me nervous every time he looks over me but I never see anything less than love, and lust, and excitement in the depths of his dark blue eyes.

They look lighter right now.

I sit up, looking up at him as he towers over me. A part of me is thankful he's going slow as he can with me, being as gentle as possible. But the other part is screaming, practically burning for him to just touch every inch of me. The longing ache in my stomach needs to feel every part of him.

The sound of his belt, as he unhooks it and pulls it out of the loops of his jeans, is the only other sound in the room, it mixes with our uneven breaths. My fingers are numb as I reach to undo the button; he looks shy—it reminds me again that we're both new to this, despite how hard he's trying to be brave. The grey elastic band around the top of his boxers peeks out; I can't help but eye it, soon enough it'll be all that's between us.

And soon enough it is. I suddenly feel awkward with my black bra and white panties, but he doesn't look at me any less than he has been.

I touch the exposed skin of his waist, and feel a giddy high when he shivers, letting out a quiet groan. He is God-like, in the city lights that splay shadows over his body. The rest of the room is dark behind him, keeping him as my focal point. My eyes skim each dip and line—I want to kiss every inch of him.

Our palms meet, with our fingers linked together. He smiles down at me. "Come here," I whisper, moving back on the bed. He crawls across, leaning over me again. My arms scarf around his neck, holding my body against his just to make myself burn more. Are bodies are meeting for the first time, and somehow they already know what to do.

He's propped us up, with one arm holding our weight up while his other hand rests on the small of my back. There's already a thin sheen of sweat across my forehead, and his. Tobias brushes his lips across my collarbone—I'm lightheaded from all of the sensations already. I let my head fall back onto the pillow, just content with being in his arms this way at the moment. The pressure of his lips, trailing down my neck is intense and leaves me breathless.

"Are you okay?" He asks quietly.

"Yes," I reply, somehow releasing an airless breath. I'm not as nervous as I was before, at least I don't believe I am. I sit up after a moment, giving his arm a rest from holding me up. His fingers find the clasp on my bra, but he doesn't move to unhook it yet, "go ahead," I nod, pressing a kiss to his throat. He groans slightly, sighing into my hair.

He fumbles with the hook a little, and I laugh, biting my lip to suppress the rest of it. I reach behind me, tangling with his fingers to unclasp it. I feel the material loosen and I know it's open. My nerves spike up again as he slides the straps down my arms and discards it with the rest of our clothes. His lips and his tongue leave a wet trail across my naked shoulder, and he blows cold air over it, driving me to the edge of madness.

Then he distracts me with a firm kiss.

Tobias moves his hands to rest just below my ribcage, slowly moving them up, testing. The moment his thumbs graze my breasts a jolt of energy shoots through me, making me gasp against his mouth. With a quick peck, he grins against my lips, "the sounds you make are quite adorable, Tris."

"I have yet to hear too much from you," I tease, gripping his firm shoulders. He laughs against my cheek, then lightly pushes me down so my head rests on the pillows.

"I like that you're responsive," he admits, cupping me in his palms. I bite back a whimper. My flat chest doesn't even faze him, he still strokes my skin back and forth. He's watching me so intently—this feels natural, despite not really knowing how to continue.

I want to test it, so I lay my palms flat against his bare waist again and dip my fingers below the elastic band. He grunts, letting out another shaky breath, "you're killing me, Tris." He whispers so low that his voice rumbles in my ear, sending ripples through my body.

"Maybe... we should do something about that," I try the words out loud, watching as a seductive grin grazes his lips. He covers my hands with his, curling them around the material. My heart is racing at the speed of light—I've never seen a man fully naked, I've never even tried to imagine it. But this fear is replaced by necessity. I want to know Tobias this way, to memorize every dip and flat of his body—I want him to know _me_ this way.

I keep my eyes locked on his as he tugs the fabric further down his legs. I suck in a breath and let my eyes roam his bare form. Every muscle is taut, smooth. My fingers trace down the tough ridges in his abdomen, stopping just as the muscles along his hips dip down in a V. He's beautiful.

"...wow," I mutter, eliciting a laugh from him.

He's erect, standing in front me almost confidently. I place my hands on either side of hips, looking up at him shyly. My nerves have returned; I was never truly, properly educated on sex but I knew the basics. I especially knew that size could be quite intimidating.

Tobias was _quite_ lucky.

He lifts my chin up, kissing my lips again. My fear is dissolving and returning every couple of seconds, "...talk to me," he whispers.

I draw in a large breath, exhaling slowly, "you're..." my voice shakes. I don't know how to say it—I know I won't offend him, and I don't want him to think I've been scared off.

"I will try not to hurt you," Tobias reassures me, stroking my cheek. His hands lower to my waist then, dipping his thumbs inside the fabric. I gasp against his jaw, burying my face into the crook between his neck and shoulder to muffle my sounds.

I am not ready for this.

No, I _am_ ready for this.

He bunches the fabric in his hands and slides them down my legs.

Then that's it. There's nothing left between us. I felt like a live wire before but now I feel like an entire electrical system, sparking, my skin charging with the energy he's giving off from his hands.

Tobias pulls me against him, kissing every inch of my face. His chest feels close to collapsing—still our heartbeats sync with one another. My lips rest against his collarbone; I keep my head down while his knee nudges my legs open a little.

The hand that's not holding us up rests on thigh, rubbing small circles into my skin. There's an ache in my core, for this, for him. Tobias turns his head so his lips are at my ear and says, "you need to talk to me."

Well, I've been basically lacking important communication for whoever long we've been here now so I'm hoping he's not expecting much from me. "This is okay," I nod. I try to distract myself, by rubbing the back of his neck.

I can feel him against me, but Tobias doesn't move just yet. He's holding my waist, giving my hip a small squeeze. His hand moves, slowly, cupping me between my legs, eliciting a small whimper from my throat. He leaves small pecks behind my ear, kissing down my neck to the birds on my skin. I don't know if I said something—though I think I did because his laugh is quiet against my neck, and he continues moving his fingers in slow circles.

My nails dig into his skin as a pressure builds, almost ticklish. He's only touching me on the outside, but I didn't know just how good it could feel. I can't stop the breathless gasps into the crook of his neck, but I press kisses to the underside of his jaw to keep myself from crying out.

Except it doesn't work. The pressure is too intense, I bite my lip as it rises and my hips thrust up instinctively. I'm not sure it can build up anymore; my legs begin to shake and the pressure finally bubbles over. It feels like a hot white light behind my eyelids—Tobias's mouth covers mine just as I let out a loud moan.

Only when my limbs relax a little does he stop. His hand holds my hip again, stroking the skin on top of my protruding bone. I try to slow my breathing down, my chest is heaving so heavily against his solid, unyielding one.

A thought comes to my mind then; I want this to happen now, with him. He watches me, before placing a kiss to my lips, "what is it?" His low voice asks, rumbling again. I bite my lip, contemplating how I'm going to say what I need to say.

This time, I kiss him, slowly and surely, before saying, "I want to do this." His eyes have never looked brighter, more alive, than they do now. Tobias smiles and kisses me, hard. His breath is warm and sweet, mingling with mine between our mouths. His teeth graze my bottom lip, gently tugging at it. I laugh for a moment—at how sweet and gentle he is, and how he's made this situation as easy on me as possible. I am thankful that he's sturdy; at least one of us is.

After a moment, he pulls back to look at me, breathless. "I can do this however you want to," he whispers, stroking my jaw with his thumb, "...but if you want the least painful route, it'd be best if you're on top."

I had never really thought about how my first time would happen. I knew, traditionally, the guy was usually always on top. But I want to make this easy for him too. I nod, touching my lips to his for a long moment.

I don't know how we maneuver it, but eventually I'm above him with his hands holding me up by my waist. I keep my eyes locked to his as he reaches between us. The sound of crinkling paper is all I hear for a moment. It's awkward, and I wait as he puts a condom on. My fear spikes up, and his lips capture mine, intent on distracting me as he slowly guides me down.

It's discomfort that I feel, and then a sharp but delightfully dull pain. We both let out quiet moans, mine sounding slightly more strangled. He rubs my back gently, finally settling me so that he's all the way inside me. It's not as painful as I thought it would be, but there is no absence of pain either. My heart is hammering against my ribcage, trying to break free of it.

Our bodies—our souls—are meeting for the first time.

We're like the perfect puzzle piece, the way we fit together. Tobias peppers every inch of my face with kisses, before resting his cheek against mine, "are you alright?" He asks again. His voice comes out in low, rumbling, and ragged breaths; I want to know what he's thinking. If this feels just as good for him as it does for me.

The discomfort dissipates after about a minute or two, leaving me feeling full in the deepest parts of me; I wrap my arms around his neck and carefully begin to move myself. Tobias grunts into my neck, his hands hold my hips, guiding me up slowly before bringing me back down against his, "go slow," I manage, almost inaudibly.

Our bones meet in the middle of it, creating a burning friction.

I can feel every inch of him, every ridge and somehow I feel closer to him than I ever thought possible. This connection is indescribable. I gasp as he hits a spot deep inside me, the sensation is surreal.

There's a different kind of pressure this time; it's not as ticklish. It's more intense, more pleasuring. We pick up speed a little, my skin meeting his more frequently than before. My body feels warm and tingly, and a thicker screen of sweat breaks out across my skin. My clammy hands grip onto his shoulders; he's sweating too.

His skin burns mine with every brush and graze; my body feels like it's on fire, but I can't get enough of him. I don't want this to stop, this collision of ours. My soul burns brighter, mixing with his fire.

I listen to his breaths become shorter, quicker; each small groan as he lifts me back up. I want to know what he is thinking, if what he is feeling is the same as what I am feeling. We fall into a rhythm; his hips come up to meet mine just as mine come down to meet his. "..._Tobias_..." I whisper breathlessly, resting my face against the crook between his neck and shoulder as the pressure builds up.

Instinct makes my back arch against him, and the pleasure in me intensifies; I cry out, louder than before. I can't stop the gasps that keep coming now, every emotion threatens to spill over and I know it will happen any time now. The build-up is almost too much to bear, but I am afraid to tell him to stop, I am afraid of losing this magic.

And everything is white, hot. I bury my face into his neck, screaming out against his salty skin. My body feels like liquid, my thoughts are mush. It's like I am unaware anymore of what volume, English, breathing, and even thinking is. All I can focus on is the satisfaction that seeps into every crevice of my muscles. He still moves with me, groaning into my shoulder and gasping for breath. I know he's just felt it too, but we keep going until our limbs relax and our bodies slow down.

I'm slumped against his sitting posture, feeling each of his ragged breaths against my skin. Our chests heaving, sticking together from the sweat. He brushes my hair away from my face, rubbing his hands up and down my back softly.

I lift my head up, both of us wincing from the movement since we are still connected, to look at his face. He looks exhausted and peaceful, with his hair sticking to his forehead and his eyelids drooping. The city lights shine across the side of his face, shadowing the other half and somehow he looks younger. Tobias smiles at me, and I lean in to kiss him, rubbing the back of his neck with my fingertips. He sighs against my lips, resting his forehead against mine.

"Thank you," I whisper quietly. Thank you for being kind, and gentle, I want to say but he knows.

He grins, brushing all of my hair over to one side, "Thank _you_." I laugh, and carefully lift myself up. He grunts again, this time from the loss of contact. He stretches out across the mattress, tugging the blanket over us. He closes his eyes, sighing, looking so relaxed I think he falls asleep. "That was..." he finally says.

"...wow," I help, and he smirks lazily, nodding. For a moment I think about putting my shirt back on—it's dark enough where I can be at peace but in the morning...

"You don't have to hide from me," Tobias says softly, watching me as I glance over the side of the bed. He pulls me closer into his side, touching me through the blanket. After a moment, I nod; I am content.

"Okay," I let out a breath. I turn my head towards the window, watching building lights as they turn off. He looks peaceful, his face turned towards me. He smells of sweat, mixed with something heavy, and sweet.

"I love you," Tobias whispers, kissing my temple. I have given him every piece of me now, and I couldn't ask for anyone better.

"I love you too," and his grip on me is just a little tighter.

Eventually his breaths even out, his arms loosen some, and his lips part. I press a feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth and curl back into his side, falling asleep to the sounds of his breathing.

XxXxX

I have never slept so deeply, so dreamlessly before. Last night left me exhausted, and satisfied, but ultimately wanting him more.

My eyes flutter open, adjusting to the sunlight streaming into the room. I shift away from it to get it out of my eyes and stretch; I turn to see Tobias peeking through one of his eyelids and he smiles at me. Clearing the sleep from his throat, he whispers, "good morning."

"Good morning," I say, my cheeks warm. Most of the blanket is wrapped thickly around me—I wonder if I pulled it tighter throughout the night. He turns to me, draping an arm across my waist and pulling me closer to place a kiss to my forehead.

We lay in silence, staring at each other for a few moments before Tobias sighs and says, "I don't want to, but I think we should probably get up." I nod, but I also don't want to. I run my fingers through my knotted hair and sit up, wincing at the slight pain between my legs. Thankfully, he doesn't notice it. He props himself up, the blanket falling down to his lap. I keep it up against my chest, hugging my knees, and he smiles.

"I won't look if you don't want me to," he promises, "do you want to take the first shower?" I bite down on my nail for a moment, nervously. A shower sounds nice, but I don't think I can get up with him watching me. He notices my hesitation and places his hands on either side of my face, "Tris, I'm not gonna look. You can get up."

I frown, more at myself. I hate that I'm this self-conscious around him, especially after last night, but I nod, "Sorry," I say quietly, biting into my lip. He smiles.

"Don't be sorry," Tobias kisses the corner of my mouth and I suddenly wonder if he was still awake last night when I kissed him. I don't ask him. He lays back down, throwing his arm over his eyes. I have to laugh, and slowly I get up from the bed.

I grab my clothes out of the pile of the forgotten and head into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I let myself breathe then, resting against the door. I am not scared—I just need to get used to this.

I head over to the shower, turning the spray on, testing the temperature. I glance into the mirror across from me, almost not recognizing myself. I look like I am practically glowing—my skin is flushed, but oddly it looks like I have more color. My eyes look brighter, too. My lips are slightly swollen, a dark shade of pink colors them. I look strangely older... I feel new.

I turn away, knowing I've stared too long at myself. Stepping into the shower, the uncomfortable throbbing starts up again. I look down, gasping when I see streaks of dried blood down the inner part of my thigh. I didn't even notice it last night. Carefully, I try to wash it away.

I focus on washing my hair next, lathering my scalp with the shampoo. The warm water relaxes my muscles, causing me to mostly just stand under the spray. I turn the water off after a few long minutes and step out, grabbing a towel from the cabinet to dry myself off.

I get dressed, wearing the same clothes as the ones I wore yesterday. A big part of me hopes Christina has already left the dorm for today, so she doesn't see me like this. It's not that I won't tell her, but I would like a little time beforehand.

When I step out into the apartment again, I see Tobias still lying in bed, but he's looking out the window. He looks up just as I cross the room towards him. "All set," I say, standing beside the bed. My fingers play with my shirt, keeping myself busy but he grabs my hands and looks up at me, making sure I'm looking directly at him.

"I don't want you to be awkward around me," he says, stroking the backs of my hands with his thumbs, "what we did last night doesn't change how we react around each other, okay?" I don't know how he does it, but I'm thankful he can. I nod, smiling shyly.

He stands up, but I keep my eyes solely focused on his. Tobias leans down to kiss my cheeks, my nose, my forehead, my jaw, and finally my lips, "thank you," I whisper. He smiles, nodding once before he heads into the bathroom to take his shower.

I sit down on the bed, combing my fingers through my wet hair. The paranoid side of me checks the mattress and the blankets—there wasn't a lot of blood, but I want to be sure.

They're clear.

I don't know how but I know I'm lucky—I'm lucky for Tobias being as rational and patient as he is with me, despite his own shy nature at times.

I think about last night, replaying parts in my mind. I know I can talk to him about anything; I put all of my trust in him last night, the same way he did with me.

I listen to the water running for a short while, before it's turned off and the sound of the curtain being pulled back registers. I hear the cabinet close and then he walks out, a white towel is around his waist. When I look at him, all the memories of last night flood back into my mind and I blush, looking at my hands. Tobias laughs at my reaction, and heads over to the dresser for new clothes.

The curious part of me makes me look up at him—all the muscles in his back flex and relax with each movement, hypnotizing me. I don't realize how intently I'm watching him until his towel drops.

I cover my eyes with my hand, dragging it down my face in the process. Why is this so hard for me to face now?

After a few moments, Tobias is fully dressed and crouching in front of me. One hand rests on my knee, the other holding my free hand, "there's an extra toothbrush in the bathroom for you," he says. I nod, so he knows I heard him.

"I'm sorry," I'm apologizing again. I don't understand why it's so hard for me to talk to him now. "...how are you—."

"—because last night was one of the best nights I've ever had," Tobias's voice is smooth, soothing as he speaks. I feel my heart swell at his words, "and I spent it with you. And if I could have things my way, we would be continuing where we left off." I laugh a little, feeling the tension ease out of me slowly.

"I just don't know what to say," I finally mutter, practically chewing my bottom lip raw. Tobias lifts my chin up, leaning forward to kiss my lips.

"You can tell me when you think of something, okay?" I nod—I'm definitely lucky. "But I have to ask, are you alright?" I'm confused by what he means, until I realize he's not asking about my mental state.

"Um, just...a little sore," I reply, crossing my legs. Tobias nods, giving my knee a small squeeze before he rubs the top of my thigh with his palm. He stands, helping me up and I head to the bathroom again, this time to brush my teeth.

XxXxX

When I get back to the dorm to change into new clothes, I realize that it wasn't my sweater I had grabbed—it was his. I sigh after a moment, shaking my head at myself and tug it up over my head. I leave it on my bed to keep, for now, for later, and put on new clothes, grabbing the hair brush on the dresser to brush out my now dry hair.

My moment of solace doesn't last long. Christina enters then, looking startled for a moment before she realizes it's me, "out with Four? A little addition? Multiplication?" She waggles her eyebrows at me, and I grin because of how stupid her joke was.

"Uh..." I point at her, as though it'll get my point across any clearer, "...you can't tell anybody. If you do I'll never trust you with another secret." She rolls her eyes at the empty threat and shuts the door, practically throwing herself onto her bed, waiting for me to start spilling all of the details. My voice drops almost to a whisper, "and to answer your horrible joke, yes,"

Her eyes go wide as saucers, and her jaw drops open. She's notices the way my skin turns a bright red and she practically screams, "—OH MY GOD!"

"Christina—!"

"OH MY GOD!" She yells again, jumping off her bed. I lunge at her, trying to cover her mouth as she begins yelling out again, this time saying, "YOU AND FOUR ACTUALLY DID—,"

"Shhh!" I hiss, glaring at her, "Chris, lower your voice! I don't need the entire school knowing." I want to strangle her.

"Are you being serious with me? You're not just trying to get my hopes up are you? You and Four actually did it last night?" She doesn't miss an opportunity, but at least her voice is at a reasonable range, "at his apartment? You _actually_ did it. You're a woman now, Tris!"

"Don't say it like that," I whine, sighing. I don't think I've ever seen her this amused.

"Well...how was it?"

"It was..._amazing_. Incredible," I say, blushing, "he was patient with me." And gentle, but I don't want to give her all the details. I want them to stay in my mind. Christina makes a high-pitched 'aw' as I say this and she grins.

"We should celebrate," she says, linking her arm through mine, "my treat."

"Where are we going?"

"_We_ are gonna go shopping. And maybe get new tattoos." She throws that last one in for her benefit, but I have to give her points for trying. "And you are gonna tell me all about it."


	23. Trouble

CHAPTER 23 – TROUBLE

I end up getting a new tattoo, thanks to Christina.

I get the symbol of Abnegation; because all my life I have rejected myself from something, even when it was worked for, but mostly when it was given to me. It is the same symbol that Tobias has on his back, between the fire and the scales. I am sure that our reason for inking our skin with these symbols is different, though.

Tori places a large bandage over the new tattoo. I decided I wanted it on my shoulder; it is easier to hide this way, but if I ever wanted to show it I could easily do so. When I stand up from the chair, the throbbing aches start again and I have to will myself not to bring attention to it.

I told Christina as much as I was willing too; most of which, seemed to satisfy her need for details. She gets a new tattoo on the inside of her arm.

"Have I told you how proud of you I am?" She jokes as we walk out of the tattoo parlor together. I roll my eyes at her.

"Yes," I nod, "about a hundred times." She smirks, and slings her arm across my shoulders.

"I say we join the others for lunch."

I give her a hard look, and warn, "you are not telling the others." She makes a motion with her hands, like she is zipping her mouth shut, and locking it.

"My lips are sealed," Christina promises, "but I am telling Lynn and Marlene later on. In confidence, I promise." I sigh; I know she would die if she couldn't tell somebody. At least it's them, and I don't have to be present.

"Fine. But later on."

"Of course."

XxXxX

I am bombarded with questions from Lynn and Marlene that night. Christina and I were on our way to the pit, when they caught up with us. Most of the questions, I can't respond to because they require too-personal answers. Lynn just likes to make me uncomfortable—I can tell by how she phrases her questions.

"Are you seeing Four tonight?" Marlene asks.

I shrug, "I'm not sure," my face heats up, and I say, "but I want to."

"Aww," they laugh.

Her question is answered when we spot Tobias standing amongst the others. He takes a sip from the bottle he is holding, and glances in our direction―spotting me immediately.

"Hey," I say, coming up beside him. Tobias grins, kissing my temple. He is sober, I am sure of it, because his skin is not flushed and his eyes are not glassed over, or unfocused. He watches me, wrapping an arm around my waist.

"Hey," he replies, "the others are going down to the chasm tonight. If you want to go, I'm all for it, but if you don't want to go, or you'd rather spend time with me we can leave soon." The chasm does sound tempting, but I much prefer being alone with him―I want to spend as much time with him as I can, since I know I will have to go back to the dorms tonight; it is Sunday, and I have classes tomorrow.

"I want to be with you," I say, loud enough for only him to hear. He tightens his arm around me. "Can we go now?" Tobias smirks, and with a small nod we start to head off.

I hear somebody whistle―at first I assume it's Lynn, but then I hear Uriah call something out to us.

"Shut up!" I yell back; Tobias laughs, loudly, and eventually we manage to get to his apartment. I want to be with him, but we can't do that tonight―because I know that I will not want to stop, and that I will not wake up before seven.

He kicks his shoes off, and throws his jacket over the back of one of the chairs. I leave my shoes next to his, and I wrap my arms around his waist, pulling him close.

I can at least be with him like this tonight.

Tobias kisses my neck; his hands holds my hips, and he slips his thumbs beneath the fabric of my jeans.

"We can't," I sigh, still my hands seek out his skin, and they find the tough of his abdomen, "not tonight. I have classes tomorrow."

"I guess we'll have to be quick," he teases, kissing behind my ear. A laugh gurgles in my throat, and I grip his shoulders for support.

"No, because if we do I don't think I'll be able to stop after one," I whisper, kissing his jaw. An animalistic growl resonates from his throat, and vibrates through my chest as he brings his lips back down to the base of my neck.

His lips linger on my collarbones for a moment, before he tugs my sleeve out of the way and kisses along my shoulder. I shiver, feeling the twist of longing ache for him in my stomach. He stops just before he reaches the bandage, and asks, "did you get hurt?"

I shake my head, "No, I got another tattoo," I see the corner of his mouth twitch into a half smile, so I say, "Christina's idea...but I wanted this one too."

"Can I see it?" I nod, and he removes the strap from my arm first, then carefully he begins to pull the bandage back, exposing the black ink on my shoulder. Tobias smiles, "We have the same one now," he says, staring at my bare shoulder.

He places the bandage back over the tattoo and presses a kiss just below it, before he cups my jaw with his fingers and we kiss again.

Gently, he guided me backwards until the backs of my knees hit the bed and I pull him across the mattress with me.

The bones in his hips dig into mine, pinning me against the mattress and I feel how affected he is; everything else is forgotten, I want him―I think I need him.

The friction through our clothes is agonizing. My fingers grip the edge of his shirt, and I pull it up over his head. Tobias throws his shirt down onto the floor, and hovers over me once again. He attacks my lips in a hungry kiss; our teeth knock against each other.

His hands cool my searing skin, and he lifts my shirt up. Tobias's fingers skim my sides, and I laugh against his lips, covering his hands with mine to stop him.

"I guess I can miss the first few classes," I say through heavy breaths. He smirks, kneeling on either side of me. His fingers work the button on my jeans, and after he gets it open, he tugs them down my legs. He presses kisses down each inch he exposes, all the way down my ankles and my body trembles in anticipation for him.

Tobias kneels above me again, and I sit up. My chest is almost flush against his, welcoming the warmth that radiates from his skin. I bring my hands up to start on his pants; he buries his fingers in my hair, and kisses me, hard.

He brings one of my hands up, and my fingers cup him; I can't help the smirk that forms when his body jerks. I kiss down his jaw, to his throat. His Adam's apple bobs with the sounds he makes from my touch, and my teeth lightly graze his skin.

My hand rests above the waistline of his jeans for a moment, before bravery overwhelms me and I find the courage to slip my fingers beneath the elastic of his briefs. His skin is warm, and dips down in a V.

An almost inhuman sound, between a grunt and a growl rips from his throat. My lips tingle from the feel of it, and my fingers touch his pulsing member. He curses under his breath, and buries his face between my shoulder and neck, breathing heavily.

"God, Tris―," he grits out. His fingers tighten in my hair, and he gently pulls my head back, exposing my skin to splay breathless kisses across my neck.

I begin to stroke him. It's awkward, especially at the angle we are in, but his broken gasps only encourages me to continue. He moves his hips up at the same time I come down, a rhythm we have found naturally.

We speed up a little, meeting more frequently, until his limbs start to convulse slightly. I watch in awe at the muscles in his stomach that grow and contract with each deep breath he takes, "Tris―," Tobias moans, biting down on his lip, hard.

"Shit," he curses again, only this time his body violently jerks forward and his fingers circle my wrist, stopping my movements completely. He lets out a long groan, gently sinking his teeth into my shoulder to muffle the sound. The feeling sends shivers down my spine, and I smile at the thought of making him feel good.

It takes him a few minutes to recover. He looks up at me, with glassy eyes and I pull his face to mine. Sweat lays just at the base of his hairline, making the short strands stick to his skin. I bring my hand up, brushing the few of them away.

Tobias cups my jaw, his long fingers twist between threads of my hair and he whispers, lazily, "you did not have to do that." My fingers tease the back of his neck, and I kiss him again, gently biting down on his bottom lip.

"I wanted to," I say back.

"Then let me make you feel good," his words, his tone of voice, makes bumps rise along my skin. I am about to tell him he doesn't have to, when he manages to turn me around so I am kneeling in front of him with my back flush up against his chest.

My heart hammers beneath my rib cage, he has one arm wrapped around my body, holding me up, while the other touches me through the fabric. Briefly, he reaches up to move my hair over to one side.

His chin rests on my shoulder, and he presses kisses behind my ear―only adding to the sensations I am feeling right now. His fingers move in slow, agonizing circles, and I spit out through clenched teeth, "dammit. Stop playing around, Tobias." He laughs quietly, against my throat, and his fingers slip beneath the material.

I cry out, loud, and my back arches, causing my shoulders to slam into his hard chest. My limbs feel like liquid, my blood moves like honey, and my body feels warm all over.

He moves faster, creating more friction and it's not long before the ticklish feeling spreads through my body, and turns into a pleasurable burn. The sounds are lost in my throat, coming out like breathless gasps and he goes until my body relaxes.

I feel exhausted, with sweat covering my back, and my forehead. My chest feels tight, suddenly gaining air back into my lungs. When some of the strength has returned to my body, I turn back around to face him and lay down against the pillows, pulling him with me so his body is parallel with mine.

Tobias hooks his thumbs beneath the straps on my shoulders, and tugs them down, pressing kisses to my salty skin.

Tobias stands up from the mattress then. His fingers tug at the waistline of his jeans, and I crawl toward him. The contours of his body are beautiful, mesmerizing. I trace my lips down to his navel, leaving a trail of wet kisses on the way. He trembles; lifting my chin up with the tips of his fingers, he presses a gentle kiss to my lips.

He kicks out of his jeans, briefly standing completely bare, before I bring him back to a hover above me on the bed. The springs yell out in protest from our frantic movements; Tobias does the same thing I did, kissing down my stomach as he tugs my underwear down my legs.

I panic for a moment, the closer his mouth gets to my core but he comes back up, his fingers squeeze my waist.

I lift myself up, unclasping the hooks of my bra; the material loosens and I discard it on the floor with the rest of our clothes. I don't feel as nervous this time, not even as his eyes rake over my bare body.

It's not as awkward this time.

Tobias sheaths himself, but I am too eager to wait much longer. We both are; we fit together perfectly, in one long, fluid motion. He groans against my skin, and I into his ear.

The stubble on his face scratches my neck, heightening my sense of feeling and my fingers clutch at, burying themselves in the blanket around our bodies, and beneath us.

He pulls back out, and then slides back in―we take our time, our bodies rock back and forth together in the same, fluent rhythm. My fingernails bite into his back, his arms hold him above me. I don't look away from his piercing blue eyes.

The hand that tangled in the blankets now cradles his face. I feel each long thrust, hitting a spot deep inside me, pushing me further and further over the edge until the pressure can build up no more and my hands scratch down his back for a grip.

My chest burns for air, heaving at the lack of oxygen. Our skin sticks together, and delicious warmth surrounds us. His limbs collapse from exhaustion, his skin shines with exertion and he rests his forehead against my shoulder, searching for air.

I don't know how long we lay there for, but eventually Tobias relieves me from his tired weight and we curl up beside each other. I rest my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow down until all I hear is his even breaths, and his light snores.

I follow soon after.

XxXxX

I wake up to the black ink curling around his collarbone, and the contours of his muscular chest.

Tobias is already awake, his fingers move in lazy circles along my spine. He is staring out the window, at the skyline, with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. I tilt my head up and kiss his jaw. He smiles, peering down at me.

"It's already ten a.m." He says, slightly amused. I look over his shoulder, and see that he is right. But I am too satisfied to care.

"I guess I don't care," I reply. He chuckles, bringing his hand up to brush my hair from my face.

"Do you want to take the first shower?" I bite my lip―his shower /is/ big enough for two.

"Come with me," I say quietly. Tobias stares at me for a moment, and then he grins mischievously. He scoops me up in his arms, carrying me bridal-style, into the bathroom.

He sets me down on the edge of the tub to turn the water on, and tests it's temperature, before we step under the spray. My muscles are a little sore from last night, but the water helps relieve them.

I lather shampoo into my hair, before Tobias takes over; I am thankful, because my arms are tired. I hum softly, leaning into his touch as his fingers massage my scalp.

I gather some more into my hands and he leans his head down for me. I scrub the shampoo into his hair.

He washes it out of mine first, and then I help him with his. I like these moments, where we take care of each other―because they are some of the realist moments I have come to know.

Tobias's arms snake around my waist, and I watch the droplets of water run down his body, washing the suds away. His skin is slippery from the soap and water, that I have to wrap my arms around his neck―he makes me feel beautiful, and he makes me forget what an insecurity is. Because he has made me know that I am perfect for him.

Tobias peppers my neck and face with warm kisses, eventually fitting his lips to mine. He lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist so he doesn't have to strain trying to hold me. The wall bears most of my weight anyway.

The tiles are cold against my back, but the palms of his hands warm me up instantly. He holds my hips, then pulls back to look at me. He tucks my air back behind my ears, and says, "I want too, but―," our protection is in the other room.

"―I don't care," I say, breathlessly, "I don't care. I love you." I kiss him again, and he laughs quietly. He pulls back again.

"Not now, but you will later, Tris," Tobias says, stroking my cheekbone idly, "I love you, too. That's why I'd rather not." For a moment, I pout but I don't argue―I know he is right. I nod, slowly, and he kisses me briefly, before shutting the water off.

XxXxX

I decide I should go back to the dorm that night, because I can't skip another day of classes.

The courtyard is dark, nobody is supposed to be awake at this time. Tobias walks silently beside me, keeping a light pressure on my hand.

I see the doors I am supposed to go through, and the closer we get the farther away I wish we were. After our shower this morning, we had done it again―though in my defense, he was walking around the apartment in only his towel.

Which prompted us to spending the rest of the day in his bed.

I think about my lonely bed, and it's not as enticing as the thought of being in his. But I have slept by myself many times before, a few nights won't kill me.

We reach the doors, and he spins me around to face him. His fingers squeeze the bend in my waist, and he brings my body flush up against his; he captures my lips in a breathless kiss.

We hear a shout then, and I am blinded by a single, bright light from the other direction. There is nowhere for us to go, and before we even can, a tall man―a little taller than Tobias―stands in front of us, with a strict expression. "What are you two doing out this late?" He doesn't give us the chance to speak, we are being escorted in through another doorway and soon enough I realize where we are going.

To Ms. Matthews' office.

I glance over at Tobias―we're in big trouble, that much is plain to see. For one, being around the courtyard hours after curfew. And two, for sneaking back to the school. But I don't know what she will do to Tobias; he is no longer her student; it'll will all mostly likely come down to me.

"She will be in in a moment," the man says, slamming the door behind him. I flinch at the sound; it seems we woke him, or maybe he is just that irritable.

"This is bad, Tobias," I say quietly.

"She is used to me―or at least she was used to me, especially around Zeke," he says, a little amused, "but maybe she'll let you go." I don't think so. I don't believe she is the type to easily dismiss people like me―she favors people like my brother―she will not favor me.


	24. Progress

**A/N: I mentioned this in the other story, but I will put it here as well. My website is up and running; it mentions updates and such. But I also have some deleted scenes posted there (in Tobias's point of view) because they could not make it into the story. So if you want to read those, the website link is in my bio.**

CHAPTER 24 – PROGRESS

The door opens behind us; I feel too stiff to turn around. I can't imagine she's happy to see us at all—especially not this late at night.

"Tobias Eaton?" She asks; I glance over at him, his expression is tranquil and his breathing is even. _Eaton?_ Eaton. _That last name is familiar_. I let out a defeated breath, there is nothing I can do but accept this. I have to face this. "And Beatrice Prior. I must say, I wasn't expecting to see either of you in my office this evening."

"We weren't either," Tobias replies slowly.

"You've done plenty of time in this office, during your own school years, Mr. Eaton," Jeanine says, firmly. I steal another glance in his direction; Tobias nods once, and sits back, pressing his lips together in a tight line. She folds her hands on top of the desk, leaning forward some, "but I have to ask what you were doing here tonight, sneaking around the campus with Miss Prior?"

"I was just walking her back," he answers easily, "it's my fault, I kept her out late." _What is he doing?_ Jeanine looks over at me, for confirmation—he's put me between a rock and a hard place; if I don't reply she'll know we are lying. At least partially.

I clear my throat, this room feels too warm now, "we lost track of time... he was just trying to bring me back. We weren't trying to disturb anyone."

"You know I can't let this go unpunished," she says, glancing between us. Unpunished, meaning me. The most she will probably give him is a warning, or something. Hesitantly, I nod and look down at my hands that are wedged between my legs, gripping the edge of the chair. "I will be discussing this with your parents, Beatrice—," the expression on her face is unreadable; the fear in my gut, as clear as a glass. I am not worried about what my mother will say—I anticipate a little less scolding from her, but my father. He knows nothing about Tobias, as far as I know.

"Do you have to tell them?" I ask as steadily as possible. She gives me a curious look.

"Is this relationship something they don't know about?" I can feel Tobias's eyes boring into the side of my face; I never told him about my parents visiting, or that my mother knew.

"My mother does," I reply quietly, "but not my father." Jeanine leans back in her chair for a moment, staring at me and I find myself unable to look away; she couldn't possibly be considering what I've just said.

"I will discuss this with your parents," she says again. My stomach drops. "But I will give you the option to talk with them first," I must give her an incredulous look, "do we have a deal, Beatrice?" I close my mouth, and nod again, though not feeling much better. I will still have to tell my father; but at least he won't find out from Jeanine. "And you will spend the next two Tuesdays in detention." I sigh, muttering a quiet 'yes, ma'am'.

"As for you, Tobias," he straightens up in the chair, "I ask that if she spends time with you, it is only outside of school hours and that she be brought back before curfew. That is the _only_ warning I am giving you." We stand up, and she says, "Beatrice, I'd like to talk to you for a moment." Tobias looks back at me, briefly, before exiting the office. I sit back down.

"I'm worried about your academic performance," she says; her eyes bore into my face, and I feel like she can hear every single one of my thoughts. I am reminded of what Christina said; that she may actually have a sixth sense with things. "You excelled in the beginning, but now..."

"I have been trying," I mumble, chewing the inside of my cheek, "I will try harder." Jeanine watches me, with skillful eyes—a scientific observation. Like she is dissecting me, from the deepest parts of my mind.

"I need to know that I can trust you," her voice is quiet, too steady, "that you will make improvements happen. And that you won't let emotions get in the way of that progress." I half-expect her to compare my grades to Caleb's, but she doesn't.

My throat feels dry, I nod, "of course." She smiles.

"Good," Jeanine says, nodding slowly. She turns away from me, and I take it as my chance to escape. My body feels numb, the door feels too heavy, and my heart has sunk to the bottom of my stomach. I knew I was slipping, but I didn't think it was this bad—Caleb was right, I should be focusing more.

I see Tobias standing at the end of the corridor, waiting. I want to tell him he should go back, that I am alright, but if I can't fathom the thoughts how can I form the words? We walk in silence the rest of the way.

Tobias stops me once we are standing in the foyer of the dormitory building.

"You never told me about your parents," he says, he doesn't sound accusing but I hear a small hint of hurt in his voice.

"I just didn't think it was important," I reply, "they've only visited once."

"Well, I'm pretty sure they'll be coming back now," Tobias retorts, "how is it your mother knows, but not your father?"

"My father and Caleb weren't there when I told my mother. It was easier to talk to her that way," I say defensively, "Because if I had told them before, the other night probably wouldn't have happened... not for a while. What's really bothering you about this?" Tobias sighs. "Does it bother you that I might have to tell them about that?" It bothers me, but I don't understand what he is thinking.

"It bothers me that you weren't planning on telling them, I guess," he says, a little defeated, "when you asked her if she had to tell them." He thinks I don't want to tell them.

"I was planning to," I say, "I am not ashamed of you... I don't want to keep you a secret from them forever, Tobias. I just don't want them to find out like this—despite what we said, she probably assumes we were trying to sneak out, not sneak back; she's going to make it seem worse than how it looked. I don't want my parents thinking you're trouble. That's all."

His eyes skim down my face, and he asks, "what did Jeanine want to talk to you about?"

Can I tell him? I could—but I can't imagine how strict he would become with me, making sure I stay focused. I say, "she just had a few questions about Caleb." The lie comes out easier than I thought; he actually believes me. I feel worse now, but the need to keep him separate from my school life is overwhelming. At least he won't act different with me. "You should probably head back." Tobias nods and pulls me into a tight hug. I breathe him in, in large breaths, before we pull apart and I head up the stairs.

That night I don't go to sleep; I have to prove to Jeanine that I am capable of improving—that I have not lied to her, just to tell her what she wants to hear. I work quietly, in the dark with the city lights as my only source to see.

XxXxX

I am half-asleep at breakfast the next morning. Christina shakes me awake, roughly, and I throw a weary glare in her direction. "Looks like somebody had a mood swing," she remarks. I bite my tongue, because she is right, and me trying to pick a fight just for the sake of arguing with somebody due to insomnia induced-irritability would be pointless.

"What happened to you?" Lynn asks. I don't acknowledge her, but my throat burns with a number of responses.

Instead, I just say, "long night."

"Sheesh, you think spending the night with Four would have done you some good—,"

"—I'm fine," I retort, picking at the muffin in front of me. I can feel their eyes burning holes into the side of my head, but I don't care. The whole event with Jeanine set me off last night; I just need to progress, and when she's off my back I'll really be fine again.

The others join us, and my attitude is next to forgotten; they don't question me again, aside from the 'you look tired' introduction.

Focusing in class isn't the hardest part either, but it's certainly the most taxing. Christina dozes off during the lesson, and I can't help but feel jealous of her—she doesn't have a woman breathing down the back of her neck to improve.

I join Caleb for lunch, and he helps me with understanding the bits I don't; much to his surprise, "why the sudden change?" He asks, closing his book. I sigh; I can tell him, he will understand.

"I have too," I say, almost desperately. He nods, slowly, and I ask, "you know why. How?"

"Ms. Matthews has had me work close by her side the last two months. It's an elite group she is making—," I already know what he means; she is choosing some of the biggest brains in this school, "—genetic testing, finding solutions—,"

"—why does she need an elite group?" I ask.

"Superiority in the world of knowledge," he answers it like he has it recited, and I wonder if he does. Jeanine seems to be making some super brain; for what? To become one of the most superior schools? High success rate? "We all have different ways of thinking. If you worked harder, you could be a part of it." I want to tell him that I have no interest in becoming one of her social experiments, but I doubt he would even agree to call it that. He wouldn't see it that way—Caleb sees this as an opportunity to gain more logic, to become better.

I have told him this before: we are not wired the same way.

XxXxX

It's been about a week since I was in Jeanine's office. I have barely seen Tobias, or even the pit for that matter. And I am very frustrated—but I have improved. It has been worth it.

But It is only Tuesday. I still have the next three days, until I can allow myself to take a break. I know that if I stop now, I will let myself slip again.

I have finished all of my work for the night, and I want to see Tobias, but I told Christina she could head to the pit without me and walking there alone does not appeal to me.

It is the last night of my punishment; after tonight, I will be free of detention. The room I am sitting in has a large mirror to my left, that takes up the entire wall. It's like it's there to remind you of what you did—'who you have become without education' as the sign says above the doorway. It's a little ridiculous.

It makes the room look bigger, though. It's a small room. I am the only one here, which I am grateful for because I do not want to spend my detention listening to the sounds of other students breathing sighs of boredom, and staring around the room at the other people wondering what they did to get there.

I find myself staring at my reflection in the mirror, wondering how I plummeted so far. Even though I know how—but it is not Tobias's fault, it is mine.

Jeanine has scheduled a meeting with my parents for tomorrow night; I am required to be present. And I will have to tell my father about Tobias; at least she gave me the option. I don't want to be there when she tells them; I am afraid she will twist the truth, and poison my parents against him.

There is no clock in this room—wondering how much time I have left, every few seconds is driving me close to madness. Thinking about him passes the time, but it also makes me wish, more and more, that he were at least here in this room with me.

I can't imagine what he is thinking—I've been away from him, my friends, the pit—for almost a week and a half now. He must think Jeanine has scared me off, and I can't tell him why I've stayed away. It is not because of him, but it is because of the need to prove that I am not slipping. And I'm not, anymore.

He is important to me, but so is this. Because now Jeanine can't use my grades, she can mention to my parents of a momentary lapse but that is all I have given her. Her ammunition is weak, except that I was out past curfew with a boy—that is all she can say now. I will not give her any fuel.

It's relieving to know that I will now only have to explain one thing to my parents.


End file.
